"Such is my intention, sir," replied Reilly. "I shall not leave you
until I see that all risk of danger is past--until I place you safely
under your own roof."

"Well, now," continued the old squire, "I believe a Papist can be a
gentleman--a brave man--a man of honor, Mr. Reilly."

"I am not aware that there is any thing in his religion to make him
either dishonorable or cowardly, sir," replied Reilly with a smile.

"No matter," continued the other, who found a good deal of difficulty
in restraining his prejudices on that point, no matter, sir, no
matter, Mr.--a--a--oh, yes, Reilly, we will have nothing to do with
religion--away with it--confound religion, sir, if it prevents one man
from being thankful, and grateful too, to another, when that other
has saved his life. What's your state and condition in society, Mr.--?
confound the scoundrel! he'd have shot me. We must hang that fellow--the
Red Rapparee they call him--a dreadful scourge to the country; and,
another thing, Mr.--Mr. Mahon--you must come to my daughter's wedding.
Not a word now--by the great Boyne, you must. Have you ever seen my
daughter, sir?"

"I have never had that pleasure," replied Reilly, "but I have heard
enough of her wonderful goodness and beauty."

"Well, sir, I tell you to your teeth that I deny your words--you have
stated a falsehood, sir--a lie, sir."

"What do you mean, sir?" replied Reilly, somewhat indignantly. "I am not
in the habit of stating a falsehood, nor of submitting tamely to such an