"On no subject, sir," replied Reilly, looking him sternly, and with
an indignation that was kept within bounds only by his respect for the
other parties, and the roof that covered him; "On no subject, Sir Robert
Whitecraft, is my word to be doubted."

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied the other, "I did not say so."

"I will neither have it said, sir, nor insinuated," rejoined Reilly. "I
received my education on the Continent because the laws of this country
prevented me from receiving it here. I was placed in a Jesuit seminary,
not by my own choice, but by that of my father, to whom I owed
obedience. Your oppressive laws, sir, first keep us ignorant, and then
punish us for the crimes which that ignorance produces."

"Do you call the laws of the country oppressive?" asked the baronet,
with as much of a sneer as cowardice would permit him to indulge in.

"I do, sir, and ever will consider them so, at least so long as they
deprive myself and my Catholic fellow-countrymen of their civil and
religious rights."

"That is strong language, though," observed the other, "at this time of
day."

"Mr. Reilly," said the squire, "you seem to be very much attached to
your religion."

"Just as much as I am to my life, sir, and would as soon give up the one
as the other."