Apologies on the part of Reilly, who really had dined, were flung to the
winds by the old squire.

"What matter, Willy? what matter, man?--sit at the table, pick
something--curse it, we won't eat you. Your dress? never mind your
dress. I am sure Helen here will not find fault with it. Come, Helen,
use your influence, love. And you, sir, Willy Reilly, give her your
arm." This he added in consequence of dinner having been announced while
he spoke; and so they passed into the dining-room.




CHAPTER III.--Daring Attempt of the Red Rapparee

--Mysterious Disappearance of His Gang--The Avowal


We must go back a little. When Helen sank under the dreadful
intelligence of the attempt made to assassinate her father, we stated at
the time that she was not absolutely insensible; and this was the fact.
Reilly, already enraptured by such wonderful grace and beauty as the
highest flight of his imagination could never have conceived, when
called upon by her father to carry her to the sofa, could scarcely
credit his senses that such a lovely and precious burden should ever be
entrusted to him, much less borne in his very arms. In order to prevent
her from falling, he was literally obliged to throw them around her,
and, to a certain extent, to press her--for the purpose of supporting
her--against his heart, the pulsations of which were going at a
tremendous speed. There was, in fact, something so soft, so pitiable,