“You know him not, father,” replied the bishop, for such he was; “I tell you, and I speak from better information than you possess, that he is already suspected.  What has been his conduct?  He has associated himself more with Protestants than with those of his own Church; he has dined with them, partaken of their hospitality, joined in there amusements, slept in their houses, and been with them as a familiar friend and boon companion.  I see, father, what the result will necessarily be; first, an apostate—­next, an informer—­and, lastly, a persecutor; and all for the sake of wealth and the seductive charms of a rich heiress.  I say, then, that deep in this cold cavern shall be his grave, rather than have an opportunity of betraying the shepherds of Christ’s persecuted flock, and of hunting them into the caverns of the earth like beasts of prey.  Our retreat here is known only to those who, for the sake of truth and their own lives, will never disclose the knowledge of it, bound as they are, in addition to this, by an oath of the deepest and most dreadful solemnity—­an oath the violation of which would constitute a fearful sacrilege in the eye of God.  As for these orphans, whose parents were victims to the cruel laws that are grinding us, I have so trained and indoctrinated them into a knowledge of their creed, and a sense of their duty, that they are thoroughly trustworthy.  On this very day I administered to them the sacrament of confirmation.  No, brother, we cannot sacrifice the interests and welfare of our holy Church to the safety of a single life—­to the safety of a person who I foresee will be certain to betray us.”

“My lord,” replied the priest, “I humbly admit your authority and superior sanctity, for in what does your precious life fall short of martyrdom but by one step to the elevation which leads to glory?  I mean the surrendering of that life for the true faith.  I feel, my lord, that in your presence I am nothing; still, in our holy Church there is the humble as well as the exalted, and your lordship will admit that the gradations of piety, and the dispensations of the higher and the lower gifts, proceed not only from the wisdom of God but from the necessities of man.”

“I do not properly understand you, father,” said the bishop in a voice whose stern tones were mingled with something like contempt.

“I beg your lordship to hear me,” proceeded Father Maguire.  “You say that Reilly has associated more frequently with Protestants than he has with persons of our own religion.  That may be true, and I grant that it is so; but, my lord, are you aware that he has exercised the influence which he has possessed over them for the protection and advantage and safety of his Catholic friends and neighbors, to the very utmost of his ability, and frequently with success?”

“Yes; they obliged him because they calculated upon his accession to their creed and principles.”

“My lord,” replied the priest with firmness, “I am an humble but independent man; if humanity and generosity, exercised as I have seen them this night, guided and directed by the spirit of peace, and of the word of God itself, can afford your lordship a guarantee of the high and Christian principles by which this young man’s heart is actuated, then I may with confidence recommend him to your clemency.”