E 18--Looked with her dark eyes upon Reilly]

After her father had spoken, she raised herself from his arms, and
assuming her full height--and she was tall--looked for a moment with
her dark, deep, and terrible eyes upon Reilly, who in the meantime felt
rapt, spell-bound, and stood, whilst his looks were riveted upon these
irresistible orbs, as if he had been attracted by the influence of some
delightful but supernatural power, under which he felt himself helpless.

That mutual gaze and that delightful moment! alas! how many hours of
misery--of sorrow--of suffering--and of madness did they not occasion!

"Papa has imposed a task upon me, sir," she said, advancing gracefully
towards him, her complexion now pale, and again over-spread with deep
blushes. "What do I say? Alas--a task! to thank the preserver of my
father's life--I know not what I say: help me, sir, to papa--I am
weak--I am--"

Reilly flew to her, and caught her in his arms just in time to prevent
her from falling.

"My God!" exclaimed her father, getting to his feet, "what is the
matter? I was wrong to mention the circumstance so abruptly; I ought to
have prepared her for it. You are strong, Reilly, you are strong, and I
am too feeble--carry her to the settee. There, God bless you!--God bless
you!--she will soon recover. Helen! my child! my life! What, Helen!
Come, dearest love, be a woman. I am safe, as you may see, dearest. I
tell you I sustained no injury in life--not a hair of nay head was hurt;
thanks to Mr. Reilly for it thanks to this gentleman. Oh! that's right,
bravo, Helen--bravo, my girl! See that, Reilly, isn't she a glorious
creature? She recovers now, to set her old loving father's heart at
ease."

The weakness, for it did not amount altogether to insensibility, was
only of brief duration.

"Dear papa," said she, raising herself, and withdrawing gently and
modestly from Reilly's support, "I was unprepared for the account of
this dreadful affair. Excuse me, sir; surely you will admit that a
murderous attack on dear papa's life could not be listened to by his only
child with indifference. But do let me know how it happened, papa."

"You are not yet equal to it, darling; you are too much agitated."

"I am equal to it now, papa! Pray, let me hear it, and how this
gentleman--who will be kind enough to imagine my thanks, for, indeed,
no language could express them--and how this gentleman was the means of
saving you."

"Perhaps, Miss Folli