“This must be some mistake.  Who are you?”

“Helen!”

“Reilly! oh, that voice has set all right.  But, my God, who could know you—­in this disguise?”

They approached, and Reilly, seizing her hand, said, “I will shake hands with you; but until this disguise is off I would consider it sacrilege to approach nearer to your person.”

“No disguise can ever shut you out from my heart, dear Reilly; but what is to be done?  I have discovered, by one of my maids, who overheard my father say, in a short soliloquy—­’Well, thank God, she’ll be Sir Robert’s wife within a month, and then my mind will be easy at last.’  Oh!  I’m glad you did not leave this country.  But, as I said, what is to be done?  What will become of us?”

“Under our peculiar circumstances,” replied Reilly, “the question cannot, for the present at least, be answered.  As for leaving the country, I might easily have done it, but I could not think of leaving you to the snares and windings of that villain.  I declare solemnly, I would rather die than witness a union between you and him.”

“But what, think you, should I feel?  You would be only a spectator of the sacrifice, whereas I should be the victim.”

“Do not be cast down, my love; whilst I have life, and a strong arm, it snail never be.  Before I go I shall make arrangements with Lanigan when and where to see you again.”

“It will be a matter of some difficulty,” she replied, “for I am now under the strictest surveillance.  I am told, and I feel it, that Whitecraft has placed a spy upon all my motions.”

“How is that?” inquired Reilly.  “Are you not under the protection of your father, who, when occasion is necessary, has both pride and spirit?”

“But my poor credulous father is, notwithstanding, easily imposed on.  I know not exactly the particulars,” replied the lovely girl, “but I can easily suspect them.  My father it was, certainly, who discharged my last maid, Ellen Connor, because, he said, he did not like her, and because, he added, he would put a better and a more trustworthy one in her place.  I cannot move that she is not either with me or after me; nay, I cannot write a note that she does not immediately acquaint papa, who is certain to stroll into my apartment and ask to see the contents of it, adding, ’Helen, when a young lady of rank and property forms a clandestine and disgraceful attachment it is time that her father should be on the lookout; so I will just take the liberty of throwing my eye over this little billet-doux.’  I told him often that he was at liberty to inspect every line I should write, but that I thought that very few parents would express such want of confidence in their daughters, if, like me, the latter had deserved such confidence at their hands as I did at his.”

“What is the name of your present maid?” asked Reilly, musing.

“Oh,” replied Miss Folliard, “I have three maids altogether, but she has been installed as own maid.  Her name is Eliza Herbert.”