“I wish you had been present at the bonfire, sir,” replied his intended son-in-law; “it would have done your heart good.”

“I daresay,” said the squire; “but still, what harm did his house and place do you?  I know the fellow is a Jesuit, a rebel, and an outlaw—­at least you tell me so; and you must know.  But upon what authority did you burn the rascal out?”

“As to that,” returned the baronet, “the present laws against Popery and the general condition of the times are a sufficient justification; and I do not think that I am likely to be brought over the coals for it; on the contrary, I look upon myself as a man who, in burning the villain out, have rendered a very important service to Government.”

“I regret, Sir Robert,” observed Mr. Brown, “that you should have disgraced yourself by such an oppressive act.  I know that throughout the country your conduct to this young man is attributed to personal malice rather than to loyalty.”

“The country may put what construction on my conduct it pleases,” he replied, “but I know I shall never cease till I hang him.”

Mr. Hastings was a man of very few words; but he had an eye the expression of which could not be mistaken—­keen, manly, and firm.  He sat sipping his wine in silence, but turned from time to time a glance upon the baronet, which was not only a searching one, but seemed to have something of triumph in it.

“What do you say, Hastings?” asked Whitecraft; “can you not praise a loyal subject, man?”

“I say nothing, Sir Robert,” he replied; “but I think occasionally.”

“Well, and what do you think occasionally?”

“Why, that the times may change.”

“Whitecraft,” said Smellpriest, “I work upon higher principles than they say you do.  I hunt priests, no doubt of it; but then I have no personal malice against them; I proceed upon the broad and general principle of hatred to Popery:  but, at the same time, observe it is not the man but the priest I pursue.”

“And when you hang or transport the priest, what becomes of the man?” asked the baronet, with a diabolical sneer.  “As for me, Smellpriest, I make no such distinctions; they are unworthy of you, and I’m sorry to hear you express them.  I say, the man.”

“And I say, the priest,” replied the other.

“What do you say, my lord?” asked Mr. Folliard of the peer.

“I don’t much care which,” replied his lordship; “man or priest, be it as you can determine; only I say that when you hang the priest, I agree with Whitecraft there, that it is all up with the man, and when you hang the man, it is all up with the priest.  By the way, Whitecraft,” he proceeded, “how would you like to swing yourself?”

“I am sure, my lord,” replied the baronet, “you wouldn’t wish to see me hanged.”