nious death, which would have been worse. This flight is not
spontaneously mine; I am forced to it, and of two evils I will choose
the least; surely I am not bound to seal my own misery forever."

Connor had by this time attempted, as far as she could, to disguise her
in one of her own dresses; but nothing could conceal the elegance and
exquisite proportion of her figure, nor the ladylike harmony and grace
of her motions. She then went to the oaken cabinet, mentioned by her
father in the opening of our narrative, and as she always had the key of
that portion of it which contained her own diamonds, and other property,
she took a casket of jewels of immense value from it, and returned to
her room, where she found Connor before her.

"Mr. Reilly is ready, miss," she said, "and is waiting for you behind
the garden; the only one I dread in the house is Andy Cummiskey; he is
so much attached to the master that I think if he knew you were about to
escape he would tell him."

"Well, Connor, we must only avoid him as well as we can; but where,
or how, shall I carry these jewels? in these slight pockets of yours,
Connor, they could not be safe."

"Well, then, can't you give them to him to keep, and they'll be safe?"

"True, Connor, so they will; but I give him a heart which he prizes
above them all. But, alas! my father! oh! Connor, shall I abandon him?"

"Do not distress yourself, my dear Miss Folliard; your father loves you
too much to hold out his anger against you long. Did you not tell me
that if Reilly was a Protestant your father said he would rather marry
you to him than to Sir Robert, the villain, with all his wealth?"

"I did, Connor, and my father certainly said so; but the serpent,
Connor, entwined himself about the poor credulous man, and succeeded
in embittering him against Reilly, who would rather go to the
scaffold--yes, and--which he would consider a greater sacrifice--rather
abandon even me than his religion. And do you think, Connor, that I do
not love my noble-minded Reilly the more deeply for this? I tell you,
Connor, that if he renounced his religion upon no other principle than
his love for me, I should despise him as a dishonorable, man, to whom it
would not be safe for me to entrust my happiness."

"Well, well; but now it is time to start, and Reilly, as I said, is
waiting for you behind the garden."

"Oh, Connor, and is it come to this? my dear papa! but I cannot go until
I see him; no, Connor,