He found the great house at Loughlinter nearly empty.  Mr. Kennedy’s mother was there, and Lord Brentford was there, and Lord Brentford’s private secretary, and Mr. Kennedy’s private secretary.  At present that was the entire party.  Lady Baldock was expected there, with her daughter and Violet Effingham; but, as well as Phineas could learn, they would not be at Loughlinter until after he had left it.  There had come up lately a rumour that there would be an autumn session,—­that the Houses would sit through October and a part of November, in order that Mr. Mildmay might try the feeling of the new Parliament.  If this were to be so, Phineas had resolved that, in the event of his election at Loughton, he would not return to Ireland till after this autumn session should be over.  He gave an account to the Earl, in the presence of the Earl’s son-in-law, of what had taken place at Loughton, and the Earl expressed himself as satisfied.  It was manifestly a great satisfaction to Lord Brentford that he should still have a borough in his pocket, and the more so because there were so very few noblemen left who had such property belonging to them.  He was very careful in his speech, never saying in so many words that the privilege of returning a member was his own; but his meaning was not the less clear.

Those were dreary days at Loughlinter.  There was fishing,—­if Phineas chose to fish; and he was told that he could shoot a deer if he was minded to go out alone.  But it seemed as though it were the intention of the host that his guests should spend their time profitably.  Mr. Kennedy himself was shut up with books and papers all the morning, and always took up a book after dinner.  The Earl also would read a little,—­and then would sleep a good deal.  Old Mrs. Kennedy slept also, and Lady Laura looked as though she would like to sleep if it were not that her husband’s eye was upon her.  As it was, she administered tea, Mr. Kennedy not liking the practice of having it handed round by a servant when none were there but members of the family circle, and she read novels.  Phineas got hold of a stiff bit of reading for himself, and tried to utilise his time.  He took Alison in hand, and worked his way gallantly through a couple of volumes.  But even he, more than once or twice, found himself on the very verge of slumber.  Then he would wake up and try to think about things.  Why was he, Phineas Finn, an Irishman from Killaloe, living in that great house of Loughlinter as though he were one of the family, striving to kill the hours, and feeling that he was in some way subject to the dominion of his host?  Would it not be better for him to get up and go away?  In his heart of hearts he did not like Mr. Kennedy, though he believed him to be a good man.  And of what service to him was it to like Lady Laura, now that Lady Laura was a possession in the hands of Mr. Kennedy?  Then he would tell himself that he owed his position in the world entirely to Lady Laura, and that he was ungrateful to feel himself ever dull in her society.  And, moreover, there was something to be done in the world beyond making love and being merry.  Mr. Kennedy could occupy himself with a blue book for hours together without wincing.  So Phineas went to work again with his Alison, and read away till he nodded.