"I don't understand you, Sir Robert. You're a perfect oracle; by the
great Deliverer from Pope and Popery, wooden shoes, and so forth, only
that Reilly made his appearance at that moment I was a dead man."

"Not the slightest danger, Mr. Folliard. I am aware of that, and of
the whole Jesuitical plot from the beginning, base, ingenious, but
diabolical as it was."

The squire rose up and looked at him for a minute, without speaking,
then sat down again, and, a second time, was partially up, but resumed
his seat.

"A plot!" he exclaimed; "a plot, Sir Robert! What plot?"

"A plot, Mr. Folliard, for the purpose of creating an opportunity to
make your acquaintance, and of ingratiating himself into the good
graces and affections of your lovely daughter; a plot for the purpose of
marrying her."

The Squire seemed for a moment thunderstruck, but in a little time he
recovered. "Marrying her!" he exclaimed; "that, you know, could not be
done, unless he turned Protestant."

It was now time for the baronet to feel thunderstricken.

"He turn Protestant! I don't understand you, Mr. Folliard. Could any
change on Reilly's part involve such a probability as a marriage between
him and your daughter?"

"I can't believe it was a plot, Sir Robert," said the squire, shifting