f," replied her father; "and he
has become so proud of it that he will allow himself to be called by no
other. He swears that if a priest gets on the windy side of him, he will
scent him as a hound would a fox. Oh! by my honor, Smellpriest must be
here. The scoundrel like Whitecraft!--eh-what am I saying? Smellpriest,
I say, first began his career as a friend to the Papists; he took large
tracts of land in their name, and even purchased a couple of estates
with their money; and in due time, according as the tide continued
to get strong against them, he thought the best plan to cover his
villany--ahem--his policy, I mean--was to come out as a fierce loyalist;
and as a mark of his repentance, he claimed the property, as the real
purchaser, and arrested those who were fools enough to trust him."

"I think I know another gentleman of my acquaintance who holds property
in some similar trust for Papists," observed Helen, "but who certainly
is incapable of imitating the villany of that most unprincipled man."

"Come, come, Helen; come, my girl; tut--ahem; come, you are getting
into politics now, and that will never do. A girl like you ought to have
nothing to do with politics or religion."

"Religion! papa."

"Oh--hem-I don't mean exactly that. Oh, no; I except religion; a girl
may be as religious as she pleases, only she must say as little upon the
subject as possible. Come, another cup of tea, with a little more
sugar, for, I give you my honor, you did not make the last one of the
sweetest;" and so saying, he put over his cup with a grimace, which
resembled that of a man detected in a bad action, instead of a good one.

At this moment John, the butler, came in with a plate of hot toast; and,
as he was a privileged old man, he addressed his master without much
hesitation.

"That was a quare business," he observed, using the word quare as an
equivocal one, until he should see what views of the circumstance his
master might take; "a quare business, sir, that happened to Mr. Reilly."

"What business do you allude to, you old sinner?"

"The burning of his house and place, sir. All he has, or had, is in a
heap of ashes."

Helen felt not for the burning, but her eyes were fixed upon the
features of the old man, as if the doom of her life depended on his
words; whilst the paper on which ee write is not whiter than were her
cheeks.

"What--what--how was it?" asked his master; "who did it?--and by whose
authority was it do