Yet in his heart of
hearts he had for Calhoun a great respect. Calhoun's invincible will had
conquered the worst in Mallow's nature, had, in spite of himself, created
a new feeling in him. There was in Mallow the glimmer of greatness, and
only his supreme selfishness had made him what he was. He laid a hand on
himself now, though it was not easy to do so.
"It was not the luck of Enniscorthy that sent Erris Boyne to his doom,"
he said, however, with anger in his mind, for Dyck's calm boldness
stirred the worst in him. He thought he saw in him an exultancy which
could only come from his late experiences in the field. It was as though
he had come to triumph over the governor. Mallow said what he had said
with malice. He looked to see rage in the face of Dyck Calhoun, and was
nonplussed to find that it had only a stern sort of pleasure. The eyes
of Calhoun met his with no trace of gloom, but with a valour worthy of a
high cause--their clear blue facing his own with a constant penetration.
Their intense sincerity gave him a feeling which did not belong to
authority. It was not the look of a criminal, whatever the man might be-
-mutineer and murderer.
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