“I've a note here for Doctor Roach,” said a servant, in Sir Marmaduke's livery, to Kerry, as he proceeded to close and lock the stable-door.
“I'm the person,” said the Doctor, taking the billet and breaking the seal. “Have you the carriage here now?” asked he, when he had finished reading.
“Yes, sir, it's on the road. Sir Marmaduke desired me not to drive up, for fear of disturbing the sick gentleman.”
“I'm ready, then,” said the Doctor; “and never casting a look backward, nor vouchsafing another word, he passed out of the gate, and descended towards the high road.
“I'll take good care of the baste till I see you, sir,” shouted Kerry after him; and then, as the distance widened, he added, “and may I never see your ould yallow wig agin, I pray this day. Divil take me, but I hope you've some of the slugs in ye, after all;” and with these pious wishes, expressed fervently, Kerry returned to the house, his heart considerably lightened by the Doctor's departure.
Scarcely was he seated beside the kitchen fire—the asylum he regarded as his own—when, all fears for his misconduct and its consequences past, he began speculating in a very Irish fashion, on the reasons of the Doctor's sudden departure.
“He's off now to 'the Lodge'—devil fear him—faix if he gets in there, they'll not get him out so asy—they'll have a pain for every day of the week before he leaves them. Well, well, thanks be to God, he's out of this.”
“Is he gone, Kerry?” said Mrs. Branagan. “Did he leave a 'cure' for Master Herbert before he went?”
“Sorra bit,” cried Kerry, as if a sudden thought struck him, “that's what he didn't!” and without hesitating another moment, he sprung from his chair, and mounted the stairs towards the parlour, where now the O'Donoghue, Mark, and Sir Archy were assembled at breakfast.
“He's away, sir, he's off again,” said Kerry, as though the nature of his tidings did not demand any more ceremonious preliminary.