“By no means,” said the Secretary, calmly; “the field open to their ambition is imperial, and not provincial; the English Parliament will form an arena for the display of ability as wide surely as this of Dublin. Men of note and capacity will not be less rewarded: the losers will be the small talkers, county squires of noisy politics, and crafty lawyers of no principles; they will, perhaps, be obliged to remain at home and look after their own affairs; but will the country be the worse for that, while the advantages to trade and commerce are inconceivable?” “I agree with you there,” said Con; “we are likely to increase our exports, by sending every clever fellow out of the country.” “Why not, if the market be a better one?” “Would n't you spare us a few luxuries for home consumption?” said Con, as he smacked his lips and looked at his glass through the candle. His Lordship paid no attention to the remark, but, taking a small tablet from his waistcoat-pocket, seemed to study its contents. “Are we certain of Cuffe; is he pledged to us, Heffernan?” “Yes, my Lord, he has no help for it; we are sure of him; he owes the Crown eleven thousand pounds, and says the only ambition he possesses is to make the debt twelve, and never pay it.” “What of that canting fellow from the North,--New-land?” “He accepts your terms conditionally, my Lord,” said Con, with a sly roll of his eye. “If the arguments are equal to your liberality, he will vote for you; but as yet he does not _see_ the advantages of a Union.” “Not _see_ them!” said Lord Castlereagh, with a look of irony; “why did you not let him look at them from your own windows, Heffernan? The view is enchanting for the Barrack Department.” “The poor man is short-sighted,” said Con, with a sigh, “and never could stretch his vision beyond the Custom House.” “Be it so, in the devil's name; a commissioner more or less shall never, stop us!” “What a set of rascals,” muttered Forester between his teeth, as he tossed off a bumper to swallow his indignation. “Well, Forester, what of your mission? Have you heard from your friend Darcy?” “Yes; I have his note here. He cannot come over just now, but he has given me an introduction to his father, and pledges himself I shall be well received.” “What Darcy is that?” said Heffernan. “The Knight of Gwynne,” said his Lordship; “do you know him?” “I believe, my Lord, there is not a gentleman in Ireland who could not say yes to that question; while west of the Shannon, Maurice Darcy is a name to swear by.” “We want such a man much,” said the Secretary, in a low, distinct utterance; “some well-known leader of public opinion is of great value just now. How does he vote usually? I don't see his name in the divisions.”