O'Shea began with due solemnity, modestly assuring the House that he wished the task had fallen to one more competent than himself, and more conversant with those professional details which would necessarily occupy a large space in the narrative.

"Surely the honorable member held a commission in the Clare Fencibles."

"Was not the honorable member's father a band-master in the Fifty-fourth?" cried another.

"To the insolent interruptions which have met me," said O'Shea, indignantly--

"Order! order!"

"Am I out of order, sir?" asked he of the Speaker.

"Clearly so," replied that functionary. "Every interruption, short of a knock-down, is parliamentary."

"I bow to the authority of the chair, and I say that the ruffianly allusions of certain honorable members 'pass by me like the idle wind, that I regard not.'"

[Illustration: 312]

"Where 's that from? Take you two to one in half-crowns you can't tell," cried one.

"Done!" "Order! order!" "Spoke!" with cries of "Goon!" here convulsed the meeting; after which O'Shea resumed his discourse.

"When, sir," said he, "I undertook to bring under the notice of this House, and consequently before the eyes of the nation, the case of a distinguished officer, one whose gallant services in the tented field, whose glorious achievements before the enemy have made his name famous in all the annals of military distinction, I never anticipated to have been met by the howls of faction, or the discordant yells of disappointed and disorderly followers--mere condottieri--of the contemptible tyrant who now scowls at me from the cross-benches."

Loud cheers of applause followed this burst of indignation.

An animated conversation now ensued as to whether this was strictly parliamentary; some averring that they "had heard worse," others deeming it a shade too violent, O'Shea insisting throughout that there never was a sharp debate in the House without far blacker insinuations, while in the Irish Parliament such courtesies were continually interchanged, and very much admired.

"Was n't it Lawrence Parsons who spoke of the 'highly gifted blackguard on the other side?'" and "Didn't John Toler allude to the 'ignorant and destitute spendthrift who now sat for the beggarly borough of Athlone?'"

cried two or three advocates of vigorous language.

"There's worse in Homer," said another, settling the question on classical authority.

The discussion grew warm. What was, and what was not, admissible in language was eagerly debated; the interchange of opinion, in a great measure, serving to show that there were few, if any, freedoms of speech that might not be indulged in. Indeed, Heathcote's astonishment was only at the amount of endurance exhibited by each in turn, so candid were the expressions employed, so free from all disguise the depreciatory sentiments entertained.

In the midst of what had now become a complete uproar, and while one of the orators, who by dint of lungs had overcome all competitors, was inveighing against O'Shea as "a traitor to his party, and the scorn of every true Irishman," a fresh arrival, heated and almost breathless, rushed into the room.

"It's all over," cried he; "the Government is beaten. The House is to be dissolved on Wednesday, and the country to go to a general election."

Had a shell fallen on the table, the dispersion could not have been more instantaneous. Barristers, reporters, borough agents, and penny-a-liners, all saw their harvest-time before them, and hurried away to make their engagements; and, in less than a quarter of an hour, O'Shea was left alone with his companion, Charles Heathcote.

"Here's a shindy!" cried the ex-M. P., "and the devil a chance I have of getting in again, if I can't raise five hundred pounds."

Heathcote never spoke, but sat ruminating over the news.

"Bad luck to the Cabinet!" muttered O'Shea. "Why would they put that stupid clause into their Bill? Could n't they wait to smuggle it in on a committee? Here I am clean ruined and undone, just as I was on the road to fame and fortune. And I can't even help a friend!" said he, turning a pitiful look at Heathcote.

"Don't waste a thought about me!" said Heathcote, good-humoredly.

"But I will!" cried O'Shea. "I 'll go down to the Horse Guards myself.

Sure I'm forgetting already," added he, with a sigh, "that we 're all 'out;' and now, for a trifle of five hundred, there's a fine chance lost as ever man had. You don't know anybody could accommodate one with a loan,--of course, on suitable terms?"

"Not one,--not one!"

"Or who 'd do it on a bill at three months, with our own names?"

"None!"

"Is n't it hard, I ask,--isn't it cruel,--Just as I was making a figure in the House? I was the 'rising man of the party,'--so the 'Post' called me,--and the 'Freeman' said, 'O'Shea has only to be prudent, and his success is assured.' And wasn't I prudent? Didn't I keep out of the divisions for half the session? Who's your father's banker, Heathcote?"

"Drummonds, I believe; but I don't know them."

"Murther! but it is hard! five hundred,--only five hundred. A real true-hearted patriot, fresh for his work, and without engagements, going for five hundred! I see you feel for me, my dear fellow," cried he, grasping Heathcote's hand. "I hear what your heart is saying this minute: 4 O'Shea, old boy, if I had the money, I 'd put it in the palm of your hand without the scratch of a pen between us.'"

"I 'm not quite so certain I should," muttered the other, half sulkily.

"But I know you better than you know yourself, and I repeat it. You 'd say, 'Gorman O'Shea, I 'm not the man to see a first-rate fellow lost for a beggarly five hundred. I 'd rather be able to say one of these days, "Look at that man on the Woolsack,--or, maybe, Chief Justice in the Queen's Bench--well, would you believe it? if I hadn't helped him one morning with a few hundreds, it's maybe in the Serpentine he 'd have been, instead of up there."' And as we 'd sit over a bottle of hock in the bay-window at Richmond, you 'd say, 'Does your Lordship remember the night when you heard the House was up, and you had n't as much as would pay your fare over to Ireland?'"

"I'm not so certain of _that_, either," was the dry response of Heathcote.

"And of what _are_ you certain, then?" cried O'Shea, angrily; "for I begin to believe you trust nothing, nor any one."

"I 'll tell you what I believe, and believe firmly too,--which is, that a pair of fellows so completely out at elbows as you and myself had far better break stones on a highroad for a shilling a day than stand cudgelling their wits how to live upon others."

"That is not my sentiment at all,--_suum cuique_,--stone-breaking to the hard-handed; men of our stamp, Heathcote, have a right--a vested right--to a smoother existence."

"Well, time will tell who is right," said Heathcote, carelessly, as he put on his hat and walked to the door. A half-cold good-bye followed, and they parted.

Hour after hour he walked the streets, unmindful of a thin misty rain that fell unceasingly. He was now completely alone in the world, and there was a sort of melancholy pleasure in the sense of his desolation.

"My poor father!" he would mutter from time to time; "if I could only think that he would forget me! if I could but bring myself to believe that after a time he would cease to sorrow for me!" He did not dare to utter more, nor even to himself declare how valueless he deemed life, but strolled listlessly onward, till the gray streaks in the murky sky proclaimed the approach of morning.

Was it with some vague purpose or was it by mere accident that he found himself standing at last near the barracks at Knightsbridge, around the gate of which a group of country-looking young fellows was gathered, while here and there a sergeant was seen to hover, as if speculating on his prey? It was a time in which more than one young man of station had enlisted as a private, and the sharp eye of the crimp Boon scanned the upright stature and well-knit frame of Heathcote.

"Like to be a dragoon, my man?" said he, with an easy, swaggering air.

"I have some thought of it," said the other, coldly.

"You 've served already, I suspect," said the sergeant, in a more respectful tone.

"For what regiment are you enlisting?" asked Heathcote, coldly, disregarding the other's inquiry.

"Her Majesty's Bays,--could you ask better? But here's my officer."

Before Heathcote had well heard the words, his name was called out, and a slight, boyish figure threw his arms about him.

"Charley, how glad I am to see you!" cried he.

"Agincourt!--is this you?" said Heathcote, blushing deeply as he spoke.