Stories by English Authors: Ireland Part 6

There's no one in front of the house yet," said the old gentleman.

"Slip out quietly, my boy, and make a dash for it to the police station. You've taken the cup for the two-mile race at Trinity.

Let's see how quick you can be when you are running for all our lives."

"I'll go down and fasten the door after him," volunteered Hayes, and the old man nodded. Outside, on the landing, they could hear the blows of the pickaxe more distinctly. Suddenly, above the clangour, rang out close and sharp the two reports of Jack's double-barrel.

He had selected a window commanding the attack, and had fired point-blank down into the group of men.

Shrieks and groans and curses testified to the accuracy of the young man's aim, and the sound of blows ceased. Harold and d.i.c.k ran rapidly downstairs. The latter unbarred the front door.

"Don't you run a fearful risk if you are seen?" inquired the American.

"Of course I do," returned the brave lad, without a tremor in his voice; "but somebody's got to take the chance; we can't defend the house forever; and I wouldn't miss this opportunity of nabbing the whole gang for a thousand pounds."

He opened the door and sped out into the night. He was out of sight in a moment, and, as far as Harold could judge, he had not been observed. Again the blows of the pickaxe rang out from the rear of the house.

Hayes closed the door and replaced the heavy bar. Then he turned to remount the stairs, and met Polly, who was standing near the top with a candle in her hand.

She was quite composed now, but very pale. He tried to ask if she had recovered, but she cut him short impatiently.

"There is nothing the matter with me. What is the meaning of all this uproar and--and the firing?"

For at this moment the twin reports of Jack's breech-loader again echoed through the house, this time it was answered by a fusilade from below.

There was nothing to be gained by concealment, and Harold told her the whole story in a few words.

"How prompt and clever of you!" she said; "You have saved all our lives."

Her praise was very sweet to him, but there was no time to enjoy it now.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he turned again to spring up the stairs.

I am going to my room for my revolver," he answered. "I may have use for it before this is over."

"Do," she replied. "I will wait for you here." Haves hurried on.

Jack was in the guest's room. The young Irishman had selected that window, as it commanded the little door against which the brunt of the attack had hitherto been directed. Every pane was shattered, and walls and ceiling showed the effect of the volley that had been directed against him, but the young fellow stood his ground uninjured. "Don't mind me," he said, in answer to Harold's inquiry.

"I'm all right, and can hold this fort til morning if they don't get ladders. I fancy I've sickened them of trying that door below."

Harold hastily grasped his revolver and went His idea was to stand in the pa.s.sage near the smoking-room, and defend the place should the door give way; for he did not believe that timber had ever been grown to withstand such blows.

Mrs. Connolly put her head out of the nursery door as he pa.s.sed.

Her husband had told her of the position of affairs.

"Is that you, Mr. Hayes?" she whispered. "Is Jack hurt?"

"Jack is quite safe," answered the young American. "Are the children very much frightened?"

"Not as long as I am with them," the old lady answered. "And d.i.c.k--what of him?"

"d.i.c.k is all right too," replied Harold. He could not tell the poor woman that her boy was out in the open country without a wall between him and the ruffians.

Mrs. Connolly drew back into the nursery to take the post a.s.signed her--a.s.suredly not the easiest on that terrible night--to listen to the doubtful sounds from without, and to support, by her own constancy, the courage of her children.

Harold found Miss Connolly in the hall where he had left her.

"What do you intend to do?" she asked.

"I was going to stand inside the door they have been hammering at,"

he answered, "in case they should break it in."

"Papa is there," said the girl; "perhaps you had better wait here.

They will try the front door next"

"Very good," he a.s.sented; and then added, with a sudden apprehension, "but the windows. There are so many of them. How can we watch them all?"

"There are bars to all the lower windows," she replied, "and I do not think they know where to find ladders. No; their next attempt will be at the hall door, and it will be harder to repel than anywhere else, for the portico will protect them from shots from the windows."

"And now, Miss Connolly," urged Harold, "you can do no good here.

Had not you better go upstairs out of the way?"

"No, no; I would rather wait here," she answered. "Don't be afraid.

I sha'n't give way again as I did to-night. I don't know what came over me, but it was all so horrible--so unexpected--" She broke off with a little shuddering sigh.

"You saw them attack him?" asked Harold.

She nodded. "I was under that big cedar outside the parlor window.

I had hidden there to blow the horn. Suddenly I saw Fergus with a lantern in his hand coming full speed toward the house. Just as he got within a few paces of me, half a dozen men burst out from the laurels. Oh, how savagely they struck at him! He was down in a moment. It was all so close to me: I recognised Red Mike by the light of poor Fergus's lantern."

"And then?" asked Hayes.

"I don't think I remember any more. I must have staggered on to the house, for they tell me I was found at the foot of the steps, but I don't know how I got there. I was terribly frightened, but I sha'n't do it again--not if they blow the roof off," she said, trying to smile.

"I should think they would be afraid to persevere now that they are discovered," observed Harold. "This firing must alarm the neighbourhood."

"In a lonely place like this!" said the girl. "No, no, Mr. Hayes; there are not many to hear these shots, and none that would not sooner fight against us than on our side. We must depend on ourselves.

But oh," she wailed, her woman's heart betraying itself through the mechanical calm she had maintained so long, "oh, I am sorry that your friendship for us should have brought you into such peril--to think that your visit here may cost you your life," and she broke off and covered her streaming eyes with her hands.

"Indeed, indeed," said Harold, earnestly, "I think any danger I may run a small price to pay for the privilege of knowing you, and, and--of loving you."

It was out at last; the words that had been so difficult to say came trippingly from his tongue now, and she did not repulse nor attempt to licence him.

There, in the dimly lighted, lofty hall, he poured out all that had been in his heart since he had known her, and won from her in return a whisper that emboldened him to draw the yielding form toward him and press his lips to hers.

With a pealing crash the pickaxe bit into the stout oaken door, and the young lovers sprang apart, terrified at this rude interruption of dreams. Blow followed blow, and the ma.s.sive woodwork shivered and splintered and swayed under the savage impulse from without.

The a.s.sailants had abandoned their attempt on the postern; they had ignored the kitchen door, within which stout Tom Neil with d.i.c.k's double-barrel stood on guard; they had turned their attention to the main entrance, where a projecting portico partially sheltered them from the galling discharges of Jack's favourite "Rigby."

They were only partially sheltered, however. The heir of Lisnahoe had quickly shifted his ground when the attack on the postern was abandoned, and he now stood in another room, ready, with the quickness of a practised snipe-shot, to fire on any arm or hand or foot which showed even for an instant outside the shadow of the portico.