“I'll tell you, my Lord,” replied Heffernan, speaking in a lower tone, and as if imparting a deep secret, “they could not spare me—that's the real fact—they could not spare me. Reflect, for a moment, what kind of thing the Government of Ireland is; see the difficulty, nay, the impossibility, of any set of men arriving here fresh from England being able to find out their way, or make any guess at the leading characters about them: every retiring official likes to embarrass his successor,—that's all natural and fair; then, what a mass of blunders and mistakes await the newly come Viceroy or Secretary! In the midst of the bleak expanse of pathless waste I was the sign-post. The new players, who took up the cards when the game was half over, could know nothing of what trumps were in, or what tricks were taken. I was there to tell them all; they soon saw that I could do this; and they also saw that I wanted nothing from any party.”
“That must be confessed on every hand, Heffernan. Never was support more generous and independent than yours! and the subject reminds me of a namesake, and, as I hear, a nephew of yours, the Reverend Joshua Heffernan,—is not that the name?”
“It is, my Lord, my nephew; but I'm not aware of having asked anything for him; I never—”
“But I did, Heffernan, and I do. He shall have the living of Drumslade; I spoke to the Lord-Lieutenant about it yesterday. There is a hitch somewhere, but we'll get over it.”
“What may be the obstacle you allude to?” said Heffernan, with more anxiety than he wished to evince.
“Lord Killgobbin says the presentation was promised to his brother, for his influence over Rochfort.”
“Not a bit of it, my Lord. It was I secured Rochfort. The case was this. He is separated from his wife, Lady Mary, who had a life annuity chargeable on Rochfort's pension from the Ordnance. Cook enabled me to get him twelve thousand pounds on the secret service list, provided he surrendered the pension. Rochfort was only too happy to do so, because it would spite his wife; and the next Gazette announced 'that the member for Dun raven had declared his intention of voting with the Government, but, to prevent even the breath of slander on his motives, had surrendered his retiring pension as a Store-keeper-General.' There never was a finer theme for editorial panegyric, and in good sooth your Lordship's press made the most of it. What a patriot!”
“What a scoundrel!” muttered Lord Castlereagh; and it would have puzzled a listener, had there been one, to say on whom the epithet was conferred.
“As for Killgobbin or his brother having influence over Rochfort, it's all absurd. Why, my Lord, it was that same brother married Rochfort to Lady Mary.”
“That is conclusive,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing.