“No—you mean where it will lead us,” said the fellow, insolently.
“What! do you dare to threaten me? Now, once for all, let this have an end. I have hitherto treated you with candor and with kindness. If you fancy that my hate can be more profitable than my friendship, say so, and before one hour passes over your head I 'll have you committed to prison as an accessory to the murder.”
“I ax your pardon humbly—I did n't mean to anger yer Honer,” said the other, in a servile tone. “I'll do everything you bid me—and sure you know best what ought to be done.”
“Then let us part good friends,” said Linton, holding out his hand towards him. “I see a boat coming over the lake which will drop me at Killaloe; we must not be seen together—so good-bye, Tom, good-bye.”
“Good-bye, and a safe journey to yer Honer,” said Tom, as, touching his hat respectfully, he retired into the wood.
The boat which Linton descried was still above a mile from the shore, and he sat down upon a stone to await its coming. Beautiful as that placid lake was, with its background of bold mountains, its scattered islands, and its jutting promontories, he had no eye for these, but followed with a peering glance the direction in which Tom Keane had departed.
“There are occasions,” muttered he to himself, “when the boldest courses are the safest. Is this one of these? Dare I trust that fellow, or would this be better?” And, as if mechanically, he drew forth a double-barrelled pistol from his breast, and looked fixedly at it.
He arose from his seat, and sat down again—his mind seemed beset with hesitation and doubt; but the conflict did not last long, for he replaced the weapon, and walking down to the lake, dipped his fingers in the water and bathed his temples, saying to himself,—
“Better as it is: over-caution is as great an error as foolhardiness.”
With a dexterity acquired by long practice, he now disguised his features so perfectly that none could have recognized him; and by the addition of a wig and whiskers of bushy red hair, totally changed the character of his appearance. This he did, that at any future period he might not be recognized by the boatmen, who, in answer to his signal, now pulled vigorously towards the shore.