If it were not that other cares and other interests call us away, we would gladly linger a little longer to speculate on the Viceroy's thoughts as he reseated himself by the fire. His brow was overcast and his features clouded. Was it that he felt he had entered the lists, and thrown down the glove to a strong and resolute opponent? Had he before him a vista of the terrible conflict between expediency and honor that was soon to be his fate? Had he his doubts as to the support his own Cabinet would afford him? Was his pride the ruling sentiment of the moment, or did there enter into his calculations the subtle hope of all the eager expectancy this appointment would create, all the disposable venality it would lay at his discretion? Who can answer these questions? who solve these doubts? Is it not very possible that his mind wandered amidst them all? Is it not more than likely that they passed in review before him? for when he rejoined his company his manner was more absent, his courtesy less easy than usual. At length Mr. M'Casky came forward to say goodnight. “Colonel Massingbred has told you of those disturbances in the West, has he not?” asked the Viceroy. “Yes, my Lord,” replied the other. “And what opinion--what advice did you give?” “To let matters alone, my Lord; to be always a little behind time, particularly in sending a force. 'Never despatch the police to quell a riot,' said John Toler, 'unless one of the factions be completely beaten, otherwise you 'll have them both on your back;' and I assure your Excellency, Ireland has been very successfully governed under that maxim for years past.” “Thank you, M'Casky; thank you for the advice,” said his Excellency, laughing, and wished him good-night. CHAPTER XXXIV. AN HONORED GUEST It was a time of unusual stir and bustle at the Martin Arms; the house was crammed with company. Messengers--some mounted, others on foot--came and went at every moment; horses stood ready saddled and harnessed in the stables, in waiting for any emergency; in fact, there was a degree of movement and animation only second to that of a contested election. In the midst of this confusion a chaise with four smoking posters drew up at the door, and a sharp, clear voice called out,--“Morrissy, are my rooms ready?” “No, indeed, Mr. Repton,” stammered out the abashed landlord; “the house is full; there's not a spot in it to put a child in.” “You got my letter, I suppose?” said Repton, angrily. “I did, sir, but it was too late; the whole house was engaged by Mr. Scanlan, and the same evening the company arrived in two coaches-and-four.” “And who is the precious company you speak of?” “Mr. Merl, sir,” said the other, dropping his voice to a whisper, “the new owner of Cro' Martin; he's here, with two or three great lawyers and one or two of his friends. They came down to serve the notices and give warning--”