With ready quickness, Darby saw what my impression was, and hastily remarked:—
“We 'll be all away out of this, Master Tom, you know, before that. We 'll be up in Kildare, where we 'll see the boys exercising and marching; that's what 'ill do your heart good to look at. But before we go, you 'll have to take the oath, for I'm answerable for you all this time with my own head; not that I care for that same, but others might mistrust ye.”
“Halloo!” cried the Frenchman, from within; “I hope you have finished your conference there, for you seem to forget there's no fire in this room.”
“Yes, sir; and I beg a thousand pardons,” said Darby, servilely. “And Master Tom only wants to bid you goodby before he goes.”
“Goes! goes where? Are you so soon tired of me?” said he, in an accent of most winning sweetness.
“He's obliged to be at the Curragh, at the meeting there,” said Darby, answering for me.
“What meeting? I never heard of it.”
“It 's a review, sir, of the throops, that 's to be by moonlight.”
“A review!” said the Frenchman, with a scornful laugh. “And do you call this midnight assembly of marauding savages a review?”
Darby's face grew dark with rage, and for a second I thought he would have sprung on his assailant; but with a fawning, shrewd smile he lisped out,—