"Do you wish to get into the hands of the police?" said I.
"Ah! then, is it the Peelers," said Darby contemptuously, "that yir honor manes? Divil a one o' them will be out of his flay-park by the time I'm crossing the Callas with Squib and Pat Fagan's ould carbine, that he'll lend me out o' the bog-hole, where he keeps it from the rust and the guagers: and sure, while we're oilin' it with a bit of goose-grace, that it mayn't burst intirely the first goin' off, I can have a bit of gossip with the ould woman in the chimly corner over the greeshah, and find out everything about the gintleman in the neighb'rhood that I'm takin' the letther to; for poor Katty Fagan, ever since she lost the brindled heifer, and young Jemmeen her grandson, that they cut out for a priest, and another calf that she won at a weddin' raffle, all in the typhus sason,—you recollect the typhus, yir honor?"
"Oh, curse you and the typhus together!" said I.—"Well, an' it's myself that never could spake a good word for it either, masther, bad look to 't!" said Darby: "but, be that as it may, ever since that time Katty knows more of every other body's bisness nor her own; so I'll lose nothin' by callin' to ax her how she is at laste, thov' it is a mile or two out o' my way."
By this time, reader, you may conclude my power of endurance was pretty nigh exhausted; so, raking down a pair of pistols that hung over the fire-place, I said, "The only powder and shot, my good fellow, that I can spare you at present, are contained in these two barrels; you are welcome to them, and shall have them on the spot, if you do not depart immediately!"—"Ah! then it's myself that wud depart immadiately, sure enough, sir," said Darby, "if yir honor wud only pull the trigger; but keep yir hands off o' them, masther avick, for, charge or no charge, they might go aff and spile my beauty for ever: the divil, they say, can fire an empty charge as well as a full one!"—"Well, then," said I, "take your choice: go off this moment, or one of these shall!"—"Oh, then, sure that's no choice at all, at all, sir," replied Darby; "so I suppose I must go my ways. Well, then, wid ye be wid ye, for I can't always be wid ye. Is there anything else I can do for ye, sir, on the road?"—"Nothing," said I: "begone!"—"Thank ye, sir," said he, and retired.
"Thank Heaven!" said I, "the fellow has at last set out on his journey." So I again turned to the marvellous volume, and was about halfway through the pedestrian exploits of Collier and his sister, who, to use the words of the writer, "thought nothing of putting a pot of pink-eyes down to boil, and stepping to the next market-town (about nine miles distant) for a halfpenny-worth of salt (returning, too, again) before the white horses were on the praties," when Eileen presented herself in such a convulsion of laughter that it was some moments before she could reply to my question of "What's the matter?" At length, terminating with a long-drawn sigh, and her usual "widdy-eelish," she replied, "Nothing's the matter, sir; only—only—" (laughing again) "only Darby, sir."—"Darby!" exclaimed I, "what of him?"—"He wants to know, sir," said she, "if you will allow him to take a horse with him."—"A horse!" exclaimed I; "devil take the fellow! what does he mean?"—"Why, I mane, to be sure," said Darby from the bottom of the stairs, at the same time at the top of his voice, "a horse from the young ash-plants in the ould garden. I'll cut the crookedest I can find, though a straight one would do me betther."—"What is it he wants?" said I, turning to Eileen, who was in a perfect kink of laughter.—"Oh! widdy-eelish," replied she, "I suppose the crather means a pole to help him over the bogs."—"Let me talk to the rascal myself," said I, going to the door in a deuce of a rage.
"Yir sarvant, sir," said Darby, taking his hat off and making a scrape that cost him his equilibrium, and me my gravity, for I could not but sympathise with Eileen's outrageous laughter. "Is it possible that you are here yet?" inquired I, endeavouring to be as severe as possible.
"Oh, never fear, sir, but I'll be off presently," said he: "my walk's waitin' for me on the road; I'll overtake it immadiately."
"I'm sorry that you have undertaken it at all," said I in a tone of unusual displeasure.
"Undertaken, sir! undertake—undertaker!" said Darby rather indignantly; "I never was an undertaker but oncet, and that was at my ould father's funeral, when I was one of the nine bearers. That was a beautiful sight, to be sure," said he, kindling into rapture as he proceeded; "Ah! that was the beautiful sight, agrah! I seen many a lord's berrin', but none to come up to that. Oh! it would do any one's heart good to see us walkin' in possession to the Abbey,—it was so dacent, and all of a piece, like a magpie, white and black from beginnin' to end! Oh! it was a beautiful sight, anyhow," added he with a deep sigh.
"Did you, then, rejoice in your father's death?" said I harshly.