to the left—­then stooped to examine the ground, as if he had lost something of value or importance.  At length, finding every other trick useless, he adopted that one so common among boys in desperate cases—­we mean the attempt to make a mask of the right shoulder in order to conceal the face.  Even this failed, and he found himself compelled to meet the fixed and stern gaze of the colossal priest, who was on horseback, and bore in his huge right hand a whip, that might, so gripped, have tamed a buffalo, or the centaur himself, if he were not fabulous.

“Why—­my good, honest and most religious friend, Mr. Darby O’Drive—­the odor of whose sanctity, you scoundrel, has already perfumed the whole Parish—­is it possible that Providence in kindness to me, and in pure justice to yourself, has thrown you into my way at last.”  This for the present was accompanied only by a peculiar quivering motion of the whip, resulting from the quick vibrations which his sense of Darby’s hypocrisy had communicated through the hand to the weapon which it held.

“God save your Reverence!” replied Darby, “an’ in troth I’m glad to see you look so well—­faith it’s in a glow o’ health you are, may God continue it to you!  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?”

Darby here attempted to work up a kind of sly significant wheedling expression into his eye, as he stole a half timid, half confidant glance at the priest—­but it would not do—­the effort was a failure, and no wonder—­for there before him sat the terrible catechist like an embodied thunder cloud—­red, lurid, and ready to explode before him—­nay he could see the very lightning playing and scintillating in his eyes, just as it often does about the cloud before the bursting of the peal.  In this instance there was neither sympathy nor community of feeling between them, and Darby found that no meditated exposition of pious fraud, such as “quartering on the enemy,” or “doing the thieves,” or any other interested ruse, had the slightest chance of being tolerated by the uncompromising curate.  The consequence was, that the rising roguery died away from Darby’s face, on which there remained nothing but a blank and baffled expression, that gave strong assurance of his being in a situation of great perplexity.  The most timid and cowardly animals will, however, sometimes turn upon their captors, and Darby although he felt no disposition to bandy words with the curate, resolved, notwithstanding, to abide by the new creed, until he should be able to ascertain his chance of the gaolership.  There was, besides, another motive.  He knew Mr. Lucre’s character so well, that he determined to pursue such a course, during his interview, as might ensure him a sound horse-whipping; for it occurred to him that a bit of martyrdom would make a capital opening argument during his first interview with Mr. Lucre.