loquacity and good-humor having been very much improved by a few
glasses of his rich old Madeira. His daughter, on the other hand, seemed
frequently in a state of abstraction, and, on more than one occasion,
found herself incapable of answering several questions which he put to
her. Ever and anon the timid, blushing glance was directed at Reilly,
by whom it was returned with a significance that went directly to her
heart. Both, in fact, appeared to be influenced by some secret train
of thought that seemed quite at variance with the old gentleman's
garrulity.

"Well," said he, "here we are, thank God, all safe; and it is to you,
Willy, we owe it. Come, man, take off your wine. Isn't he a fine young
fellow, Helen?"

Helen's heart, at the moment, had followed her eyes, and she did not
hear him.

"Hello! what the deuce! By the banks of the Boyne, I believe the girl
has lost her hearing. I say, Helen, isn't Willy Reilly here, that
prevented you from being an orphan, a fine young fellow?"

A sudden rosy blush suffused her whole neck and face on hearing this
blunt and inconsiderate question.

"What, darling, have you not heard me?"

"If Mr. Reilly were not present, papa, I might give an opinion on that
subject; but I trust you will excuse me now."

"Well, I suppose so; there's no getting women to speak to the point.