When Heffernan, with his charge, Forester, reached Dublin, he drove
straight to Castlereagh's house, affectedly to place the young man under
the protection of his distinguished relative, but in reality burning
with eager impatience to recount his last stroke of address, and to
display the cunning artifice by which he had embroiled O'Reilly with the
great popular leader. Mr. Heffernan had a more than ordinary desire
to exhibit his skill on this occasion; he was still smarting under the
conscious sense of having been duped by O'Reilly, and could not rest
tranquilly until revenged. Under the mask of a most benevolent purpose,
O'Reilly had induced Heffernan to procure Lionel Darcy an appointment to
a regiment in India. Heffernan undertook the task, not, indeed, moved by
any kindliness of feeling towards the youth, but as a means of reopening
once more negotiations with O'Reilly; and now to discover that he
had interested himself simply to withdraw a troublesome witness in a
suit--that he had been, in his own phrase, “jockeyed”--was an insult to
his cleverness he could not endure.
As Heffernan and Forester drove up to the door, they perceived that a
travelling-carriage, ready packed and loaded, stood in waiting, while
the bustle and movement of servants indicated a hurried departure.
“What's the matter, Hutton?” asked Heffernan of the valet who appeared
at the moment; “is his Lordship at home?”
“Yes, sir, in the drawing-room; but my Lord is just leaving for England.
He is now a Cabinet Minister.”
Heffernan smiled, and affected to hear the tidings with delight, while
he hastily desired the servant to announce him.
The drawing-room was crowded by a strange and anomalous-looking
assemblage, whose loud talking and laughing entirely prevented the
announcement of Con Heffernan's name from reaching Lord Castlereagh's
ears. Groups of personal friends come to say good-bye, deputations eager
to have the last word in the ear of the departing Secretary, tradesmen
begging recommendations to his successor, with here and there a
disappointed suitor, earnestly imploring future consideration, were
mixed up with hurrying servants, collecting the various minor articles
which lay scattered through the apartment.
The time which it cost Heffernan to wedge his way through the dense
crowd was not wholly profitless, since it enabled him to assume that
look of cordial satisfaction at the noble Secretary's promotion which
he was so very far from really feeling. Like most men who cultivate mere
cunning, he underrated all who do not place the greatest reliance upon
it, and in this way conceived a very depreciating estimate of Lord
Castlereagh's ability. Knowing how deeply he had himself been trusted,
and how much employed in state transactions, he speculated on a long
career of political influence, and that, while his Lordship remained as
Secretary, his own skill and dexterity would never be dispensed with.
This pleasant illusion was now suddenly dispelled, and he saw all his
speculations scattered to the wind at once; in fact, to borrow his own
sagacious illustration, “he had to submit to a new deal with his hand
full of trumps.”
He was still endeavoring to disentangle himself from the throng, when
Lord Castlereagh's quick eye discovered him.
“And here comes Heffernan,” cried he, laughingly; “the only man wanting
to fill up the measure of congratulations. Pray, my Lord, move one step
and rescue our poor friend from suffocation.”
“By Jove! my Lord, one would imagine you were the rising and not the
setting sun, from all this adulating assemblage,” said Heffernan, as
he shook the proffered hand of the Secretary, and held it most
ostentatiously in his cordial pressure. “This was a complete surprise
for me,” added he. “I only arrived this evening with Forester.”
“With Dick? Indeed! I'm very glad the truant has turned up again. Where
is he?”
“He passed me on the stairs, I fancy to his room, for he muttered
something about going over in the packet along with you.”
“And where have you been, Heffernan, and what doing?” asked Lord
Castlereagh, with that easy smile that so well became his features.
“That I can scarcely tell you here,” said Heffernan, dropping his voice
to a whisper, “though I fancy the news would interest you.” He made a
motion towards the recess of a window, and Lord Castlereagh accepted the
suggestion, but with an indolence and half-apathy which did not escape
Heffernan's shrewd perception. Partly piqued by this, and partly
stimulated by his own personal interest in the matter, Heffernan
related, with unwonted eagerness, the details of his visit to the West,
narrating with all his own skill the most striking characteristics of
the O'Reilly household, and endeavoring to interest his hearer by those
little touches of native archness in description of which he was no mean
master.
But often as they had before sufficed to amuse his Lordship, they seemed
a failure now; for he listened, if not with impatience, yet with
actual indifference, and seemed more than once as if about to stop the
narrative by the abrupt question, “How can this possibly interest _me?_”
Heffernan read the expression, and felt it as plainly as though it were
spoken.
“I am tedious, my Lord,” said he, whilst a slight flush colored the
middle of his cheek; “perhaps I only weary you.”
“He must be a fastidious hearer who could weary of Mr. Heffernan's
company,” said his Lordship, with a smile so ambiguous that Heffernan
resumed with even greater embarrassment,--
“I was about to observe, my Lord, that this same member for Mayo
has become much more tractable. He evidently sees the necessity of
confirming his new position, and, I am confident, with very little
notice, might be con-verted into a stanch Government supporter.”
“Your old favorite theory, Heffernan,” said the Secretary, laughing; “to
warm these Popish grubs into Protestant butterflies by the sunshine of
kingly favor, forgetting the while that 'the winter of their discontent'
is never far distant. But please to remember, besides, that gold mines
will not last forever,--the fountain of honor will at last run dry; and
if--”
“I ask pardon, my Lord,” interrupted Heffernan. “I only alluded to those
favors which cost the Minister little, and the Crown still less,--that
social acceptance from the Court here upon which some of your Irish
friends set great store. If you could find an opportunity of suggesting
something of this kind, or if your Lordship's successor--”
“Heaven pity him!” exclaimed Lord Castlereagh. “He will have enough on
his hands, without petty embarrassments of this sort. Without you have
promised, Heffernan,” added he, hastily. “If you have already made any
pledge, of course we must sustain your credit.”
“I, my Lord! I trust you know my discretion better than to suspect me.
I merely threw out the suggestion from supposing that your Lordship's
interest in our poor concerns here might outlive your translation to a
more distinguished position.”
There was a tone of covert impertinence in the accent, as well as the
words, which, while Lord Castlereagh was quick enough to perceive, he
was too shrewd to mark by any notice.
“And so,” said he, abruptly changing the topic, “this affair of
Forester's shortened your visit?”
“Of course. Having cut the knot, I left O'Reilly and Conolly to the
tender mercies of O'Halloran, who, I perceive by to-day's paper, has
denounced his late client in round terms. Another reason, my Lord, for
looking after O'Reilly at this moment. It is so easy to secure a prize
deserted by her crew.”
“I wish Dick had waited a day or two,” said Lord Castlereagh, not
heeding Heffernan's concluding remark, “and then I should have been off.
As it is, he would have done better to adjourn the horse-whipping sine
die, His lady-mother will scarcely distinguish between the two parties
in such a conflict, and probably deem the indignity pretty equally
shared by both parties.”
“A very English judgment on an Irish quarrel,” observed Heffernan.
“And you yourself, Heffernan,--when are we to see you in London?”
“Heaven knows, my Lord. Sometimes I fancy that I ought not to quit
my post here, even for a day; then again I begin to fear lest the new
officials may see things in a different light, and that I may be thrown
aside as the propagator of antiquated notions.”
“Mere modesty, Heffernan,” said Lord Castlereagh, with a look of the
most comic gravity. “You ought to know by this time that no government
can go on without you. You are the fly-wheel that regulates motion
and perpetuates impulse to the entire machine. I 'd venture almost to
declare that you stand in the inventory of articles transmitted from one
viceroy to another; and as we read of 'one throne covered with crimson
velvet, and one state couch with gilt supporters,' so we might chance to
fall upon the item of 'one Con Heffernan, Kildare Place.'”
“In what capacity, my Lord?” said Heffernan, endeavoring to conceal his
anger by a smile.
“Your gifts are too numerous for mention. They might better be summed up
under the title of 'State Judas.'”
“You forget, my Lord, that he carried the bag. Now I was never
purse-bearer even to the Lord Chancellor. But I can pardon the simile,
coming, as I see it does, from certain home convictions. Your Lordship
was doubtless assimilating yourself to another historical character of
the same period, and, would, like him, accept the iniquity, but 'wash
your hands' of its consequences.”
“Do you hear that, my Lord?” said Lord Castlereagh, turning round,
and addressing the Bishop of Kilmore. “Mr. Heffernan has discovered
a parallel between my character and that of Pontius Pilate.” A look of
rebuking severity from the prelate was directed towards Heffernan, who
meekly said,--
“I was only reproving his Lordship for permitting me to discharge
_all_ the duties of Secretary for Ireland, and yet receive none of the
emoluments.”
“But you refused office in every shape and form,” said Lord Castlereagh,
hastily. “Yes, gentlemen, as the last act of my official life amongst
you,”--here he raised his voice, and moved into the centre of the
room,--“I desire to make this public declaration, that as often as
I have solicited Mr. Heffernan to accept some situation of trust
and profit under the Crown, he has as uniformly declined; not, it is
needless to say, from any discrepancy in our political views, for I
believe we are agreed on every point, but upon the ground of maintaining
his own freedom of acting and judging.”
The declamatory tone in which he spoke these words, and the glances of
quiet intelligence that were exchanged through the assembly, were in
strong contrast with the forced calmness of Heffernan, who, pale and red
by turns, could barely suppress the rage that worked within him; nor
was it without an immense effort he could mutter a feigned expression of
gratitude for his Lordship's panegyric, while he muttered to himself,--
“You shall rue this yet!”