She arose and seemed about to say something,--hesitated for a moment or two, and then slowly entered the house, and disappeared. CHAPTER XXI. GOING OUT In a small dinner-room of the Viceregal Lodge, in the Phoenix Park, the Viceroy sat at dinner with Sir Brook Fossbrooke. He had arrived in great haste, and incognito, from England, to make preparations for his final departure from Ireland; for his party had been beaten in the House, and expected that, in the last debate on the measure before them, they would be driven to resign office. Lord Wilmington had no personal regrets on the subject. With high station and a large fortune, Ireland, to him, meant little else than estrangement from the habits and places that he liked, with the exposure to that species of comment and remark which the Press so unsparingly bestows on all public men in England. He had accepted office to please his party; and though naturally sorry for their defeat, there was a secret selfish satisfaction at being able to go back to a life more congenial to him that more than consoled him for the ministerial reverse. It is difficult for the small world of place-hunters and office-seekers to understand this indifference; but I have little doubt that it exists largely amongst men of high position and great fortune, and imparts to their manner that seeming dignity in adversity which we humble folk are so prone to believe the especial gift of the “order.” Cholmondely Balfour did not take matters so coolly; he had been summoned over by telegram to take his part in the “third reading,” and went away with the depressing feeling that his official sun was about to set, and all the delightful insolences of a “department” were about to be withdrawn from him. Balfour had a brief interview with the Viceroy before he started, and hurriedly informed him how events stood in Ireland. Nor was it without a sense of indignation that he saw how little his Excellency cared for the defeat of his party, and how much more eager he seemed to see his old friend Fossbrooke, and thank him for his conduct, than listen to the details of the critical questions of the hour. “And this is his address, you say?” said Lord Wilmington, as he held a card in his hand. “I must send off to him at once.” “It's all Bentley's fault,” said Balfour, full of the House and the debate. “If that fellow were drowning, and had only breath for it, he 'd move an amendment! And it's so provoking, now we had got so splendidly through our prosecutions, and were winning the Catholics round to us besides; not to say that I have at last managed to induce Lendrick to resign, and we have a Judgeship to bestow.” In a few hurried words he recounted his negotiation with Sewell, placing in the Viceroy's hand the document of the resignation.