was not to be obtained by
friendship with Her Majesty's Government. This was in itself very
well, but he was soon informed that it was not as a free-lance that
he had been elected member for Cavan. "That is between me and my
constituency," said Mr. O'Mahony, standing up with his head thrown
back, and his right hand on his heart. But the constituency soon gave
him to understand that he was not the man they had taken him to be.

He, too, had begun to find that to spend his daughter's money in
acting patriotism in the House of Commons was not a fine _role_
in life. He earned nothing and he did nothing. Unless he could
bind himself hand and foot to his party he had not even a spark of
delegated power. He was not allowed to speak when he desired, and
was called upon to sit upon those weary benches hour after hour, and
night after night, only pretending to effect those things which he
and his brother members knew could not be done. He was not allowed
to be wrathful with true indignation, not for a moment; but he was
expected to be there from question time through the long watches of
the night--taking, indeed, his turn for rest and food--always ready
with some mock indignation by which his very soul was fretted; and
no one paid him the slightest respect, though he was, indeed, by no
means the least respectable of his party. He would have done true
work had it been given him to do. But at the present moment his
own party did not believe in him. There was no need at present for
independent wrathful eloquence. There seldom is need in the House of
Commons for independent eloquence. The few men who have acquired for
themselves at last the power of expressing it, not to empty benches,
not amidst coughings and hootings, and loud conversation, have had
to make their way to that point either by long efficient service or
by great gifts of pachydermatousness. Mr. O'Mahony had never served
anyone for an hour, and was as thin-skinned as a young girl; and,
though his daughter had handed him all her money, so that he might
draw upon it as he pleased, he told himself, and told her also, that
his doing so was mean. "You're welcome to every dollar, father, only
it doesn't seem to make you happy."

"I should be happy to starve for the country, if starving would do
anything."

"I don't see that one ever does any good by starving as long as there
is bread to eat. This isn't a romantic sort of thing, this payment of
rents; but we ought to try