“The first great step was taken long ago,” said Mr. Monk,—­“taken by men who were looked upon as revolutionary demagogues, almost as traitors, because they took it.  But it is a great thing to take any step that leads us onwards.”

Two days after this Mr. Gresham declared his intention of dissolving the House because of the adverse division which had been produced by Mr. Monk’s motion, but expressed a wish to be allowed to carry an Irish Reform Bill through Parliament before he did so.  He explained how expedient this would be, but declared at the same time that if any strong opposition were made, he would abandon the project.  His intention simply was to pass with regard to Ireland a measure which must be passed soon, and which ought to be passed before a new election took place.  The bill was ready, and should be read for the first time on the next night, if the House were willing.  The House was willing, though there were very many recalcitrant Irish members.  The Irish members made loud opposition, and then twitted Mr. Gresham with his promise that he would not go on with his bill, if opposition were made.  But, nevertheless, he did go on, and the measure was hurried through the two Houses in a week.  Our hero who still sat for Loughshane, but who was never to sit for Loughshane again, gave what assistance he could to the Government, and voted for the measure which deprived Loughshane for ever of its parliamentary honours.

“And very dirty conduct I think it was,” said Lord Tulla, when he discussed the subject with his agent.  “After being put in for the borough twice, almost free of expense, it was very dirty.”  It never occurred to Lord Tulla that a member of Parliament might feel himself obliged to vote on such a subject in accordance with his judgment.

This Irish Reform Bill was scrambled through the two Houses, and then the session was over.  The session was over, and they who knew anything of the private concerns of Mr. Phineas Finn were aware that he was about to return to Ireland, and did not intend to reappear on the scene which had known him so well for the last five years.  “I cannot tell you how sad it makes me,” said Mr. Monk.

“And it makes me sad too,” said Phineas.  “I try to shake off the melancholy, and tell myself from day to day that it is unmanly.  But it gets the better of me just at present.”

“I feel quite certain that you will come back among us again,” said Mr. Monk.

“Everybody tells me so; and yet I feel quite certain that I shall never come back,—­never come back with a seat in Parliament.  As my old tutor, Low, has told me scores of times, I began at the wrong end.  Here I am, thirty years of age, and I have not a shilling in the world, and I do not know how to earn one.”

“Only for me you would still be receiving ever so much a year, and all would be pleasant,” said Mr. Monk.