My father sighed, but it was more in weariness than sorrow; and Rutledge said,—
“I came out to have a long chat with you, Walter, about various things; but I fear talking fatigues you.”
“It does fatigue me,—I'm not equal to it,” said my father, faintly.
“It's unlucky too,” said the other, half peevishly, “one so seldom can catch you alone; and though MacNaghten is the best fellow in the world—”
“You must still say nothing against him, at least in my hearing,” added my father, as if to finish the sentence for him.
“I was only going to observe that in all that regards politics—”
“Pardon my interrupting you again,” broke in my father, “but Dan never pretended to know anything about them; nor is it likely that a fellow that felt the turf a contamination will try to cultivate his morals by the intrigues of party.”
Rutledge affected to laugh at the sneering remark, and after a moment resumed,—
“Do you know, then, it was precisely about that very subject of politics I came out to talk with you to-day. The Duke told me of the generous way you expressed yourself to him during his visit here, and that although not abating anything of your attachment to what you feel a national cause, you never would tie yourself hand and foot to party, but stand free to use your influence at the dictates of your own honest conviction. Now, although there is no very important question at issue, there are a number of petty, irritating topics kept continually before Parliament by the Irish party, which, without the slightest pretension to utility, are used as means of harassing and annoying the Government.”
“I never heard of this before, Rutledge; but I know well, if the measures you speak of have Grattan and Flood and Ponsonby, and others of the same stamp, to support them, they are neither frivolous nor contemptible; and if they be not advocated by the leaders of the Irish party, you can afford to treat them with better temper.”