ard," said Reilly, "it would be better to defer the
explanation until you shall have gained more strength."

"Oh, no, sir," she replied; "my anxiety to hear it will occasion me
greater suffering, I am sure, than the knowledge of it, especially now
that papa is safe."

Reilly bowed in acquiescence, but not in consequence of her words; a
glance as quick as the lightning, but full of entreaty and gratitude,
and something like joy--for who does not know the many languages which
the single glance of a lovely woman can speak?--such a glance, we say,
accompanied her words, and at once won him to assent.

"Miss Folliard may be right, sir," he observed, "and as the shock has
passed, perhaps to make her briefly acquainted with the circumstances
will rather relieve her."

"Right," said her father, "so it will, Willy, so it will, especially,
thank God, as there has been no harm done. Look at this now! Get away,
you saucy baggage! Your poor loving father has only just escaped being
shot, and now he runs the risk of being strangled."

"Dear, dear papa," she said, "who could have thought of injuring
you--you with your angry tongue, but your generous and charitable and
noble heart?" and again she wound her exquisite and lovely arms about
his neck and kissed him, whilst a fresh gush of tears came to her eyes.

"Come, Helen--come, love, be quiet now, or I shall not tell you any
thing more about my rescue by that gallant young fellow standing before
you."

This was followed, on her part, by another glance at Reilly, and
the glance was as speedily followed by a blush, and again a host of
tumultuous emotions crowded around his heart.

The old man, placing her head upon his bosom, kissed and patted her,
after which he related briefly, and in such a way as not, if possible,
to excite her afresh, the circumstances with which the reader is already
acquainted. At the close, however, when he came to the part which Reilly
had borne in the matter, and dwelt at more length on his intrepidity and
spirit, and the energy of character and courage with which the quelled
the terrible Rapparee, he was obliged to stop for a moment, and say,

"Why, Helen, what is the matter, my darling? Are you getting ill again?
Your little heart is going at a gallop--bless me, how it pit-a-pats.
There, now, you've heard it all--here I am, safe--and there stands the
gentleman to whom, under God, we are both indebted for it. And now let
us have dinner, darling, for