The squire's countenance literally became pale, his last hope was gone,
and so great was his agitation that, in bringing a glass of wine to his
lips, his hand trembled to such a degree that he spilled a part of it.
This, however, was not all. A settled gloom--a morose, dissatisfied
expression--soon overshadowed his features, from which disappeared all
trace of that benignant, open, and friendly hospitality towards Reilly
that had hitherto obtained from them. He and the baronet exchanged
glances of whose import, if Reilly was ignorant, not so his beloved
_Cooleen Bawn_. For the remainder of the evening the squire treated
Reilly with great coolness; always addressing him as Mister, and
evidently contemplating him in a spirit which partook of the feeling
that animated Sir Robert Whitecraft.

Helen rose to withdraw, and contrived, by a sudden glance at the door,
and another as quick in the direction of the drawing-room, to let her
lover know that she wished him to follow her soon. The hint was not
lost, for in less than half an hour Reilly, who was of very temperate
habits, joined her as she had hinted.

"Reilly," said she, as she ran to him, "dearest Reilly! there is little
time to be lost. I perceive that a secret understanding respecting
you exists between papa and that detestable baronet. Be on your guard,
especially against the latter, who has evidently, ever since we sat down
to dinner, contrived to bring papa round to his own way of thinking, as
he will ultimately, perhaps, to worse designs and darker purposes. Above
all things, speak nothing that can be construed against the existing
laws. I find that danger, if not positive injury, awaits you. I shall,
at any risk, give you warning."

"At no risk, beloved!"