CHAPTER VII. A PARTING INTERVIEW
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!”