hing, "that I have seen enough of him during
his short stay here to feel satisfied that no earthly persuasion, no
argument, could induce him, at this moment especially, to change his
religion. And, sir, I will add myself--yes, I will say for myself, dear
papa, and for Reilly too, that if from any unbecoming motive--if for the
sake of love itself, I felt satisfied that he could give up and abandon
his religion, I would despise him. I should feel at once that his heart
was hollow, and that he was unworthy either of my love or my respect."

"Well, by the great Boyne, Helen, you have knocked my intellects up. I
hope in God you have no Papist predilections, girl. However, it's only
fair to give Reilly a trial; long-legs is to dine with us the day after
tomorrow--now, I will ask Reilly to meet him here--perhaps, if I get
an opportunity, I will sound him on the point myself--or, perhaps, you
will. Will you promise to make the attempt? I'll take care that you and
he shall have an opportunity."

"Indeed, papa, I shall certainly mention the subject to him."

"By the soul of Schomberg, Helen, if you do you'll convert him."

Helen was about to make some good-natured reply, when the noise of
carriage wheels was heard at the hall-door, and her father, going to
the window, asked, "What noise is that? A carriage!--who can it be?
Whitecraft, by the Boyne! Well, it can't be helped."

"I will leave you, papa," she said; "I do not wish to see this unfeeling
and repulsive man, unless when it is unavoidable, and in your presence."

She then withdrew.

Before we introduce Sir Robert Whitecraft, we must beg our readers to
accompany us to the residence of that worthy gentleman, which was not
more than three miles from that of Reilly. Sir Robert had large estates
and a sumptuous residence in Ireland, as well as in England, and had
made the former principally his place of abode since he became enamored
of the celebrated _Cooleen Bawn_. On the occasion in question he was
walking about through his grounds when a female approached him; whom
we beg the reader to recognize as Mary Mahon. This mischievous woman,
implacable and without principle, had, with the utmost secrecy, served
Sir Robert, and many others, in a capacity discreditable alike to virtue
and her sex, by luring the weak or the innocent within their toils.

"Well, Mary," said he, "what news in the country? You, who are always on
the move, should know."

"No very good news for you