from Castle ------, the intelligence was communicated by Hennessy to Sir Robert, who immediately set out for the place, attended by a party of his myrmidons, conducted to it by the Red Rapparee, who, as we have said, was now one of Whitecraft’s band.  There is often a stupid infatuation in villany which amounts to what they call in Scotland fey—­that is, when a man goes on doggedly to commit some act of wickedness, or rush upon some impracticable enterprise, the danger and folly of which must be evident to every person but himself, and that it will end in the loss of his life.  Sir Robert, however, had run a long and prosperous career of persecution—­a career by which he enriched himself by the spoils he had torn, and the property he had wrested from his victims, generally under the sanction of Government, but very frequently under no other sanction than his own.  At all events the party, consisting of about thirty men, remained in a deep and narrow lane, surrounded by high whitethorn hedges, which prevented the horsemen—­for they were all dragoons—­from being noticed by the country people.  Alas, for the poor Abbe! they had not remained there more than twenty minutes when he was seen approaching them, reading his breviary as he came along.  They did not move, however, nor seem to notice him, until he had got into the midst of them, when they formed a circle round him, and the loud voice of Whitecraft commanded him to stand.  The poor old priest closed his breviary, and looked around him; but he felt no alarm, because he was conscious of no offence, and imagined himself safe under the protection of a distinguished Protestant nobleman.

“Gentlemen,” said he, calmly and meekly, but without fear, “what is the cause of this conduct towards an inoffensive old man?  It is true I am a Catholic priest, but I am under the protection of the Marquis of------.  He is a Protestant nobleman, and I am sure the very mention of his name will satisfy you, that I cannot be the object either of your suspicion or your enmity.”

“But, my dear sir,” replied Sir Robert, “the nobleman you mention is a suspected man himself, and I have reported him as such to the Government.  He is married to a Popish wife, and you are a seminary priest and harbored by her and her husband.”

“But what is your object in stopping and surrounding me,” asked the priest, “as if I were some public delinquent who had violated the laws?  Allow me, sir, to pass, and prevent me at your peril; and permit me, before I proceed, to ask your name?” and the old man’s eyes flashed with an indignant sense of the treatment he was receiving.

“Did you ever hear of Sir Robert Whitecraft?”

“The priest-hunter, the persecutor, the robber, the murderer?  I did, with disgust, with horror, with execration.  If you are he, I say to you that I am, as you see, an old man, and a priest, and have but one life; take it, you will anticipate my death only by a short period; but I look by the light of an innocent conscience into the future, and I now tell you that a woful and a terrible retribution is hanging over your head.”