Phineas Finn

then his lordship, upon whom this touch of the gout had come somewhat sharply, expressed himself with considerable animation. The old doctor behaved with much spirit. “I told the Earl,” he said, “that I could not undertake to say what you might do; but that as you had come forward at first with my sanction, I could not withdraw it now. He asked me if I should support you with money; I said that I should to a moderate extent. ‘By G⁠⸺,’ said the Earl, ‘a moderate extent will go a very little way, I can tell you.’ Since that he has had Duggin with him; so, I suppose, I shall not see him any more. You can do as you please now; but, from what I hear, I fear you will have no chance.” Then with much bitterness of spirit Phineas resolved that he would not interfere with Lord Tulla at Loughshane. He would go at once to the Reform Club and explain his reasons to Barrington Erle and others there who would be interested.

But he first went to Grosvenor Place. Here he was shown up into Mr. Kennedy’s room. Mr. Kennedy was up and seated in an armchair by an open window looking over into the Queen’s garden; but he was in his dressing-gown, and was to be regarded as an invalid. And indeed as he could not turn his neck, or thought that he could not do so, he was not very fit to go out about his work. Let us hope that the affairs of the Duchy of Lancaster did not suffer materially by his absence. We may take it for granted that with a man so sedulous as to all his duties there was no arrear of work when the accident took place. He put out his hand to Phineas, and said some word in a whisper⁠—some word or two among which Phineas caught the sound of “potted peas,”⁠—and then continued to look out of the window. There are men who are utterly prostrated by any bodily ailment, and it seemed that Mr. Kennedy was one of them. Phineas, who was full of his own bad news, had intended to tell his sad story at once. But he perceived that the neck of the Chancellor of the Duchy was too stiff to allow of his taking any interest in external matters, and so he refrained. “What does the doctor say about it?” said Phineas, perceiving that just for the present there could be only one possible subject for remark. Mr. Kennedy was beginning to describe in a long whisper what the doctor did think about it, when Lady Laura came into the room.

Of course they began at first to talk about Mr. Kennedy. It would not have been kind to him not to have done so. And Lady Laura made much of the injury, as it behoves a wife to do in such circumstances for the sake both of the sufferer and of the hero. She declared her conviction that had Phineas been a moment later her husband’s neck would have been irredeemably broken.

“I don’t think they ever do kill the people,” said Phineas. “At any rate they don’t mean to do so.”

“I thought they did,” said Lady Laura.

“I fancy not,” said Phineas, eager in the cause of truth.

“I think this man was very clumsy,” whispered Mr. Kennedy.

“Perhaps he was a beginner,” said Phineas, “and that may make a difference. If so, I’m afraid we have interfered with his education.”

Then, by degrees, the conversation got away to other things, and Lady Laura asked him after Loughshane. “I’ve made up my mind to give it up,” said he, smiling as he spoke.

“I was afraid there was but a bad chance,” said Lady Laura, smiling also.

“My father has behaved so well!” said Phineas. “He has written to say he’ll find the money, if I determine to contest the borough. I mean to write to him by tonight’s post to decline the offer. I have no right to spend the money, and I shouldn’t succeed if I did spend it. Of course it makes me a little down in the mouth.” And then he smiled again.

“I’ve got a plan of my own,” said Lady Laura.

“What plan?”

“Or rather it isn’t mine, but papa’s. Old Mr. Standish is going to give up Loughton, and papa wants you to come and try your luck there.”

“Lady Laura!”

“It isn’t quite a certainty, you know, but I suppose it’s as near a certainty as anything left.” And this came from a strong Radical Reformer!

“Lady Laura, I couldn’t accept such a favour from your father.” Then Mr. Kennedy nodded his head very slightly and whispered, “Yes, yes.” “I couldn’t think of it,” said Phineas Finn. “I have no right to such a favour.”

“That is a matter entirely for papa’s consideration,” said Lady Laura, with an affectation of solemnity in her voice. “I think it has always been felt that any politician may accept such an offer as that when it is made to him, but that no politician should ask for it. My father feels that he has to do the best he can with his influence in the borough, and therefore he comes to you.”

“It isn’t that,” said Phineas, somewhat rudely.

“Of course private feelings have their weight,” said Lady Laura. “It is not probable that papa would have gone to a perfect stranger. And perhaps, Mr. Finn, I may own that Mr. Kennedy and I would both be very sorry that you should not be in the House, and that that feeling on our part has had some weight with my father.”

“Of course you’ll stand?” whispered Mr. Kennedy, still looking straight out of the window, as though the slightest attempt to turn his neck would be fraught with danger to himself and the Duchy.

“Papa has desired me to ask you to call upon him,” said Lady Laura. “I don’t suppose there is very much to be said, as each of you know so well