Isn't he a fine--a noble young fellow?"

"Indeed, I think so, papa; he appear's to be a perfect gentleman."

"Hang perfect gentlemen, Helen! they are, some of them, the most
contemptible whelps upon earth. Hang me, but any fellow with a
long-bodied coat, tight-kneed breeches, or stockings and pantaloons,
with a watch in each fob, and a frizzled wig, is considered a perfect
gentleman--a perfect puppy, Helen, an accomplished trifle. Reilly,
however, is none of these, for he is not only a perfect gentleman, but a
brave man, who would not hesitate to risk his life in order to save
that of a fellow-creature, even although he is a Papist, and that
fellow-creature a Protestant."

"Well, then, papa, I grant you," she replied with a smile, which our
readers will understand, "I grant you that he is a--ahem!--all you
say."

"What a pity, Helen that he is a Papist."

"Why so, papa?"

"Because, if he was a staunch Protestant, by the great Deliverer that
saved us from brass money, wooden shoes, and so forth, I'd marry you and
him together. I'll tell you what, Helen, by the memory of Schomberg, I
have a project, and it is you that must work it out."

"Well, papa," asked his daughter, putting the question with a smile and
a blush, "pray what is this speculation?"