k angry to one
another, you know; then, of course, I must see him home, and he can't do
less than ask me to dine with him. At all events, thinkin' that I saved
his life, we will become acquainted.'"

The squire paused and mused for some time, and then asked, "Was there no
more than this between you and him?"

"Nothing more, sir."

"And tell me, did he pay you the money?"

"Here it is," replied the Rapparee, pulling out a rag in which were the
precise number of guineas mentioned.

"But," said the squire, "we lost our way in the fog."

"Yes, sir," said the Rapparee. "Everything turned out in his favor. That
made very little difference. You would have been attacked in or about
that place, whether or not."

"Yes, but did you not attack my house that night? Did not you yourself
come down by the skylight, and enter, by violence, into my daughter's
apartment?"

"Well, when I heard of that, sir, I said, 'I give Reilly up for
ingenuity.' No, sir, that was his own trick; but afther all it was a bad
one, and tells aginst itself. Why, sir, neither I nor any of my men have
the power of makin' ourselves invisible. Do you think, sir--I put it to
your own common-sense--that if we had been there no one would have seen
us? Wasn't the whole country for miles round searched and scoured, and I
ask you, sir, was there hilt or hair of me or any one of my men seen
or even heard of? Sir Robert, I must be going now," he added. "I hope
Squire Folliard understands what kind of a man Reilly is. As for myself,
I have nothing more to say."

"Don't go yet, O'Donnel," said Whitecraft; "let us determine what is to
be done with him. You see clearly it is necessary, Mr. Folliard, that
this deep-designing Jesuit should be sent out of the country."

"I would give half my estate he was fairly out of it," said the squire.
"He has brought calamity and misery into my family. Created world! how I
and mine have been deceived and imposed upon! Away with him--a thousand
leagues away with him! And that quickly too! Oh, the plausible,
deceitful villain! My child! my child!" and here the old man burst into
tears of the bitterest indignation. "Sir Robert, that cursed villain was
born, I fear, to be the shame and destruction of my house and name."

"Don't dream of such a thing," said the baronet. "On the day he dined
here--and you cannot forget my strong disinclination to meet him--but
even on that day you will recollect the treasonable language he used
ag