“Well, then, sir, if you wish to hear the good news, and especially you, Miss Folliard, it will probably relieve your heart when I tell you that Sir Robert Whitecraft is, before this time, in the jail of Sligo, for a charge of murdher, and for burnin’ Mr. Reilly’s house and premises, which it now seems aren’t Mr. Reilly’s at all—­nor ever were—­but belong to Mr. Hastings.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed the squire, “this is dreadful:  but is it true, sirra?”

“Why, sir, if you go to his house you’ll find it so.”

“Oh, papa,” said Helen, “surely they wouldn’t hang him?”

“Hang him, Helen; why, Helen, the tide’s turned; they want to make him an example for the outrages that he and others have committed against the unfortunate Papists.  Hang him!—­as I live, he and the Red Rapparee will both swing from the same gallows; but there is one thing I say—­if he hangs I shall take care that that obstinate scoundrel, Reilly, shall also swing along with him.”

Helen became as pale as ashes, the flush had disappeared from her countenance, and she burst again into tears.

“Oh, papa,” she exclaimed, “spare Reilly:  he is innocent.”

“I’ll hang him,” he replied, “if it should cost me ten thousand pounds.  Go you, sirra, and desire one of the grooms to saddle me Black Tom; he is the fastest horse in my stables; I cannot rest till I ascertain the truth of this.”

On passing the drawing-room he looked in, and found Mr. Strong and the two Misses Ashford waiting, the one to perform, and the others to attend, at the ceremony.

“Sir.  Strong and ladies,” said he, with looks of great distraction, “I fear there will be no marriage here to-day.  An accident, I believe, has happened to Sir Robert Whitecraft that will prevent his being a party in the ceremony, for this day at least.”

“An accident!” exclaimed the ladies and the clergyman.  “Pray, Mr. Folliard, what is it? how did it happen?”

“I am just going to ride over to Sir Robert’s to learn everything about it,” he replied; “I will be but a short time absent.  But now!” he added, “here’s his butler, and I will get everything from him.  Oh, Thomas, is this you? follow me to my study, Thomas.”

As the reader already knows all that Thomas could tell him, it is only necessary to say that he returned to the drawing-room with a sad and melancholy aspect.

“There is no use,” said he, addressing them, “in concealing what will soon be known to the world.  Sir Robert Whitecraft has been arrested on a charge of murder and arson, and is now a prisoner in the county jail.”

This was startling intelligence to them all, especially to the parson, who found that the hangman was likely to cut him out of his fees.  The ladies screamed, and said, “it was a shocking thing to have that delightful man hanged;” and then asked if the bride-elect had heard it.