plied the squire, dreadfully alarmed at this piece of
information, "he was not; by the great Boyne, he wasn't."

This mighty asseveration, however, was exceedingly feeble in moral
strength and energy, for, in point of fact, it came out of the squire's
lips more in the shape of a question than an oath.

"It is unquestionably true, sir," said the baronet; "ask himself, and he
will admit it."

"Well, and granting that he was," replied the squire, "what else could
he do, when the laws would not permit of his being educated here? I
speak not against the laws, God forbid, but of his individual case."

"We are travelling from the point, sir," returned the baronet. "I was
observing that Reilly is an accomplished person, as indeed every Jesuit
is. Be that as it may, I again beg to assure you that your life stood in
no risk."

"I don't understand you, Sir Robert. You're a perfect oracle; by the
great Deliverer from Pope and Popery, wooden shoes, and so forth, only
that Reilly made his appearance at that moment I was a dead man."

"Not the slightest danger, Mr. Folliard. I am aware of that, and of
the whole Jesuitical plot from the beginning, base, ingenious, but
diabolical as it was."

The squire rose up and looked at him for a minute, without speaking,
then sat down again, and, a second time, was partially up, but resumed
his seat.

"A plot!" he exclaimed; "a plot, Sir Robert! What plot?"

"A plot, Mr. Folliard, for the purpose of creating an opportunity to
make your acquaintance, and of ingratiating himself into the good
graces and affections of your lovely daughter; a plot for the purpose of
marrying her."

The Squire seemed for a moment thunderstruck, but in a little time he
recovered. "Marrying her!" he exclaimed; "that, you know, could not be
done, unless he turned Protestant."

It was now time for the baronet to feel thunderstricken.

"He turn Protestant! I don't understand you, Mr. Folliard. Could any
change on Reilly's part involve such a probability as a marriage between
him and your daughter?"

"I can't believe it was a plot, Sir Robert," said the squire, shifting
the question, "nor I won't believe it. There was too much truth and
sincerity in his conduct. And, what is more, my house would have been
attacked last night; I myself robbed and murdered, and my daughter-my
child, carried off, only for him. Nay, indeed, it was partially
attacked, but when the villainy found us prepared they decamped; but, as