In about an hour afterwards Miss Folliard returned to the drawing-room, where she found her father asleep in his arm-chair.  Having awakened him gently from what appeared a disturbed dream, he looked about him, and, forgetting for a moment all that had happened, inquired in his usual eager manner where Reilly and Whitecraft were, and if they had gone.  In a few moments, however, he recollected the circumstances that had taken place, and after heaving a deep sigh, he opened his arms for his daughter, and as he embraced her burst into tears.

“Helen,” said he, “I am unhappy; I am distressed; I know not what to do!—­may God forgive me if I have treated this young man with ingratitude.  But, at all events, a few days will clear it all up.”

His daughter was melted by the depth of his sorrow, and the more so as it was seldom she had seen him shed tears before.

“I would do every thing—­anything to make you happy, my dear treasure,” said he, “if I only knew how.”

“Dear papa,” she replied, “of that I am conscious; and as a proof that the heart of your daughter is incapable of veiling a single thought that passes in it from a parent who loves her so well, I will place its most cherished secret in your own keeping.  I shall not be outdone even by you, dear papa, in generosity, in confidence, in affection.  Papa,” she added, placing her head upon his bosom, whilst the tears flowed fast down her cheeks, “papa, I love William Reilly—­love him with a pure and disinterested passion!—­with a passion which I feel constitutes my destiny in this life—­either for happiness or misery.  That passion is irrevocable.  It is useless to ask me to control or suppress it, for I feel that the task is beyond my power.  My love, however, is not base nor selfish, papa, but founded on virtue and honor.  It may seem strange that I should make such a confession to you, for I know it is un—­usual in young persons like me to do so; but remember, dear papa, that except yourself I have no friend.  If I had a mother, or a sister, or a cousin of my own sex, to whom I might confide and unburden my feelings, then indeed it is not probable I would make to you the confession which I have made; but we are alone, and you are the only being left me on whom can rest my sorrow—­for indeed my heart is full of sorrow.”

“Well, well, I know not what to say.  You are a true girl, Helen, and the very error, if it be one, is diminished by the magnanimity and truth which prompted you to disclose it to me.  I will go to bed, dearest, and sleep if I can.  I trust in God there is no calamity about to overshadow our house or destroy our happiness.”

He then sought his own chamber; and Cooleen Bawn, after attending him thither, left him to the care of his attendant and retired herself to her apartment.

On reaching home Reilly found Fergus, one of his own relatives, as we have said, the same who, warned by his remonstrances, had abandoned the gang of the Red Rapparee, waiting to see him.