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Her appearance threw Harman into a violent state of agitation; he trembled, got pale, and seemed absolutely sickened by the presence of the wicked wretch who had been the vile instrument of Phil M'Clutchy's success, of Mary M'Loughlin's dishonor, and of his own unhappiness. It was the paleness, however, of indignation, of distress, of misery, of despair.
Harman, that these fellows were primed with whiskey at M'Clutchy's and they gave me provoking language that I couldn't bear; it's well for them that I didn't take the butt end of that," said he, holding up the horse-pistol in his left hand, "but you'll find ten for one that would rather have a taste of it than of this;" shutting his right which was a perfect sledgehammer, and, when shut, certainly the more formidable weapon of the two.
It all happened precisely as he wished, and, accordingly, while Solomon was doing the hypocrite, Darby did the thief, and having let in those who were approaching, he came away, as we said. He lost not a moment after he had got to a lonely part of the road, in putting them between two flat stones we mean M'Clutchy's letter to Solomon, with that gentleman's answer.
The fact was, that M'Clutchy's consciousness of the truth contained in M'Loughlin's indignant reproaches, was such as prevented him from repeating them, even to his son, knowing right well that had he done so they could not exactly have looked each other in the face without sensations regarding their own conduct, which neither of them wished to avow.
M'Clutchy's face assumed its usual expression of diabolical malignity, whilst, at the same time, he gave a look so piercing at Darby, as if suspecting that the curse, from its peculiar character, was at least partially his own invention, that the latter, who stood like a criminal, looking towards the floor, felt precisely what was going forward in the other's mind, and knew that he had nothing else for it but to look him steadily in the face, as a mark of his perfect innocence.
M'Slime, that when there was an occasion for trustin' me, I didn't betray you to the world?" "No you did not; and it is for that reason that I trust you now." "Ay, and you may, too; honor bright is my motive. You remember the day you passed Darby O'Drive and me, on our way to M'Clutchy's? Did I pretend to know you then?"
As to the principles and necessities of its proprietor, if they are not already known, we may assure our readers that they soon will be. Constitution Cottage, M'Clutchy's residence, was, in fact, no cottage at all, as we have said, but a very respectable house, and of considerable size.
Solomon had placed M'Clutchy's letter secretly under a brief, as we have said, and Darby, who knew the identical spot and position in which M'Slime was in the habit of praying, knew also that he would kneel with his back to the desk on which the brief lay.
Be my sowl, it's you that can pepper the Orangemen, any how, your Reverence and how is Father Roche, sir although sure enough he's no match for you in givin' it home to the thieves." "Silence, you hypocritical sleeveen, don't think you'll crawl up my wrist as you do up M'Clutchy's and M'Slime's. Is it true that you have become an apostate?"
Well, Darby," said M'Slime, quietly changing it for another, "here it is; now, do you see how I commit that letter to the flames?" placing M'Clutchy's under the side of a brief; "and even as the flames die away before your eyes, so dies away not my resentment, Darby, for none do I entertain against him but the memory of his offensive expressions." "Sir," said Darby, "this is wonderful!
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