“Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?”
“Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any advice I did not ask for.”
“And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?”
“I think so,” said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper with everything and everybody,—the doctor, and his abject manner; Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. “I 'll leave the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye hear?”
Darby bowed respectfully.
“I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?”
“By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get a car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a good horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for a shay.”
Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby only told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting away,—that there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the road,—he would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a man; but to hear that the course was open, that any one might take it, was intolerable.
“I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?”
“Yes, certainly,—that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me. Go!”