“Or, like Sackville,” added Heffernan, laughing, “when they put their swords 'on the peace establishment,' they should put their tongues on the 'civil list.' Well, well, there are new discoveries made every day; some men succeed better in life by the practice of cowardice than others ever did, or ever will do, by the exercise of valor.”
“What can I do here? Is there anything serious in the difficulty?” said Forester, hurriedly; for he was in no humor to enjoy the abstract speculations in which Heffernan indulged.
“It might have been a very troublesome business,” replied Heffernan, quietly: “the judge might have issued a bench warrant against you, if he did not want your cousin to make him chief baron; and Justice Conolly might have been much more technically accurate, if he was not desirous of seeing his son in an infantry regiment. It's all arranged now, however; there is only one point for your compliance,—you must get out of Ireland as fast as may be. O'Halloran will apply for a rule in the King's Bench, but the proceedings will not extend to England.”
“I am indifferent where I go to,” said Forester, turning away; “and provided this foolish affair does not get abroad, I am well content.”
“Oh! as to that, you must expect your share of notoriety. O'Halloran will take care to display his martyrdom for the people! It will bring him briefs now; Heaven knows what greater rewards the future may have in store from it!”
“You heard the provocation,” said Forester, with an unsuccessful attempt to speak calmly,—“the gross and most unpardonable provocation?”
“I was present,” replied Heffernan, quietly.
“Well, what say you? Was there ever uttered an attack more false and foul? Was there ever conceived a more fiendish and malignant slander?”
“I never heard anything worse.”
“Not anything worse! No, nor ever one half so bad.”