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: '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.