“My father, my Lord,” replied Joe, blushing.
“Oh! here is the result of his interview,” said Massing-bred, turning to the foot of the page. “'Nelligan quite agreed in the view I had taken, and said the people would assuredly disarm and perhaps destroy any force we could send against them. He is greatly puzzled what course to adopt; and when I suggested the propriety of invoking Miss Martin's aid, told me that this is out of the question, since she is on a sick-bed. While we were speaking, a Dublin physician passed through on his way to visit her. This really does add to the complication, for she is, perhaps, the only one who could exert a great influence over the excited populace. In any other country it might read strangely, that it was to a young lady men should have recourse in a moment of such peril; but this is like no other country, the people like no other people, the young lady herself, perhaps, like no other young lady!'”
By a scarcely perceptible movement of his head, and a very slight change of voice, Colonel Massingbred intimated to the Viceroy that there was something for his private ear, and Lord Reckington stepped back to hear it. Nelligan, too deeply occupied in his own thoughts to remark the circumstance, stood in the same place, silent and motionless.
“It is to this passage,” whispered the Secretary, “I want to direct your Excellency's attention: 'All that I see here,' my son writes,—'all that I see here is a type of what is going on, at large, over the island. Old families uprooted, old ties severed; the people, with no other instinct than lawlessness, hesitating which side to take. Their old leaders, only bent upon the political, have forgotten the social struggle, and thus the masses are left without guidance or direction. It is my firm conviction that the Church of Rome will seize the happy moment to usurp an authority thus unclaimed, and the priest step in between the landlord and the demagogue; and it is equally my belief that you can only retard, not prevent, this consummation. If you should be of my opinion, and be able to induce his Excellency to think with us, act promptly and decisively. Enlist the Roman Catholic laity in your cause before you be driven to the harder compact of having to deal with the clergy. And first of all, make—for fortunately you have the vacancy,—make young Nelligan your solicitor-general.'”
The Viceroy gave a slight start, and smiled. He had not, as yet, accustomed his mind to such bold exercise of his patronage. He lived, however, to get over this sensation.
“My son,” resumed Massingbred, “argues this at some length. If you permit, I 'll leave the letter in your Excellency's hands. In fact, I read it very hurriedly, and came over here the moment I glanced my eyes over this passage.”
His Excellency took the letter, and turned to address a word to Joe Nelligan, but he had left the spot.
“Belcour,” said the Viceroy, “tell Mr. Nelligan I wish to speak to him. I shall be in the small drawing-room. I 'll talk with him alone. Massingbred, be ready to come when I shall send for you.”
The Viceroy sat alone by the fire, pondering over all he had heard. There was, indeed, that to ponder over, even in the brief, vague description of the writer. “The difficulties of Ireland,” as it was the fashion of the day to call them, were not such as government commissions discover, or blue books describe; they lay deeper than the legislative lead-line ever reaches,—many a fathom down below statutes and Acts of Parliament. They were in the instincts, the natures, the blood of a people who had never acknowledged themselves a conquered nation. Perhaps his Excellency lost himself in speculations, mazy and confused enough to addle deeper heads. Perhaps he was puzzled to think how he could bring the Cabinet to see these things, or the importance that pertained to them; who knows? At all events, time glided on, and still he was alone. At length the aide-de-camp appeared, and with an air of some confusion, said,—“It would appear, my Lord, that Mr. Nelligan has gone away.”
“Why, he never said good-night; he did n't take leave of me!” said the Viceroy, smiling.