As the thought of all this passed through his mind, he never wavered.

He would face it as he had faced trouble all his life, with body knit for the struggle, and his heart strong for the battle.
And back of it all the yearning that at the end she would be waiting and watching for his return to the conflict for the great "Cause" to which he had dedicated his life.
On the morning of the third day Mr.Roche, the resident magistrate, was sent for by Nathaniel Kingsnorth.

Mr.Roche found him firm and determined, his back to the fireplace, in which a bright fire was burning, although the month was July.
"Even the climate of Ireland rebels against the usual laws of nature!" thought Kingsnorth, as he shivered and glanced at the steady, drenching downpour that had lasted, practically, ever since he had set foot in the wretched country.
The magistrate came forward and greeted him respectfully.
"Good morning, Mr.Roche," said Nathaniel, motioning him to sit down by the fire.
"I've sent for you to remove this man O'Connell," added Nathaniel, after a pause.
"Certainly--if he is well enough to be moved." "The doctor, I understand, says that he is." "Very well.

I'll drive him down to the Court-House.

The Court is sitting now," said Roche, rising.
Kingsnorth stopped him with a gesture.
"I want you to understand it was against my express wishes that he was ever brought into this house." "Miss Kingsnorth told me, when I had arrested him, that you would shelter him and go bail for him, if necessary," said Roche, in some surprise.
"My sister does things under impulse that she often regrets afterwards.
This is one.