"I won't lie to you, Governor. That's not why I've come. We are not acting entirely unselfishly, of course. That is not the point."
"Then what is the point? And first I'd be pleased to know what it is you're after."
"The point is survival, Governor, the lessons of which….. Nevermind. As for Britain's further intentions, I can only say that we want nothing from the Irish of New Belfast, except perhaps a posture more open to diplomacy and trade."
"And now you'll be telling us how to survive," stole Gale gruffly.
"There are many kinds of survival, Governor, and many threats to them all, as we both know. There is undoubtedly a kind of survival that the English could learn from you: faith in life, perhaps, or the freeing of caged emotions." Witherspoon was himself aware that his tone had grown more confidential, and that he was violating the learned rules of diplomacy.
But he let it happen. He loved this place and its people, if not always understanding them, and instinct, or something deeper, told him that calm indifference would get him nowhere. "If I may say this much, man to man, I would advise you. . .ask you. . .to accept help where and how you find it. We were in a similar position once ourselves, not so very long ago. During the Blitzkrieg our need was every bit as desperate. We had to relearn a good deal that we thought we knew, and reassess what was truly strong in ourselves."
"That was an entirely different matter." With this Gale's assistant tapped his watch, as if to remind him of something.
"You will excuse me, Consul."
"Yes, Governor. I will return tomorrow and we may discuss it further.
I'll leave the full proposal here for you to study, if you wish."
Witherspoon reached into a leather briefcase, pulled forth a bound
manuscript. "Is two o'clock agreeable?"
"Of course."