saved his life and frustrated his other designs upon the castle, was a plan preconceived by you for the purpose of making papa’s acquaintance and getting introduced to the family in order to gain my affections.  Alas! if you have resorted to such a plan, you have but too well succeeded.  Do not, however, for one moment imagine that I yield any credit to this atrocious falsehood.  It has been concocted by your base and unmanly rival, Whitecraft, by whom all the proceedings against you are to be conducted.  Some violation of the penal laws, in connection with carrying or keeping arms, is to be brought against you, and unless you are on your guard you will be arrested and thrown into prison, and if not convicted of a capital offence and executed like a felon, you will at least be sent forever out of the country.  What is to be done?  If you have arms in or about your house let them be forthwith removed to some place of concealment.  The Rapparee is to get a pardon from government, at least he is promised it by Sir Robert, if he turns against you.  In one word, dearest Reilly, you cannot, with safety to your life, remain in this country.  You must fly from it, and immediately too.  I wish to see you.  Come this night, at half-past ten, to the back gate of our garden, which you will find shut, but unlocked.  Something—­is it my heart?—­tells me that our fates are henceforth inseparable, whether for joy or sorrow.  I ought to tell you that I confessed my affection for you to papa on the evening you dined here, and he was not angry; but this morning he insisted that I should never think of you more, nor mention your name; and he says that if the laws can do it he will lose ten thousand pounds or he will have you sent out of the country.  Lanigan, our cook, from what motive I know not, mentioned to me the substance of what I have now written.  He is, it seems, a cousin to the bearer of this, and got the information from him after having had much difficulty, he says, in putting it together.  I know not how it is, but I can assure you that every servant in the castle seems to know that I am attached to you.

“Ever, my dearest Reilly, yours, and yours only, until death,

“Helen Folliard.”

We need not attempt to describe the sensations of love and indignation produced by this letter.  But we shall state the facts.

“Here, Tom,” said Reilly, “is the reward for your fidelity,” as he handed him some silver; “and mark me, Tom, don’t breathe to a human being that you have brought me a letter from the Cooleen Bawn.  Go into the house and get something to eat; there now—­go and get one of your bully dinners.”

“It is true,” said he, “too true I am doomed-devoted.  If I remain in this country I am lost.  Yes, my life, my love, my more than life—­I feel as you do, that our fates, whether for good or evil, are inseparable.  Yes, I shall see you this night if I have life.”

He had scarcely concluded this soliloquy when his namesake, Fergus Reiliy, disguised in such a way as prevented him from being recognized, approached him, in the lowly garb of a baccah or mendicant.