“I don’t know what you mean by merciful laws,” observed Mrs. Brown.  “They surely cannot be such laws as oppress and persecute a portion of the people, and give an unjust license to one class to persecute another, and to prevent them from exercising the duties which their religion imposes upon them.”

“Well,” said Lady Joram, “all I wish is, that the Papists were exterminated; we should then have no apprehensions that our daughters would disgrace themselves, by falling in love with them.”

This conversation was absolutely cruel, and the amiable Mrs. Brown, from compassion to Helen, withdrew her into a corner of the room, and entered into conversation with her upon a different topic, assuring her previously that she would detail their offensive and ungenerous remarks to her father, who, she trusted, would never see them under his roof again, nor give them an opportunity of indulging in their vulgar malignity a second time.  Helen thanked her, and said their hints and observations, though rude and ungenerous, gave her but little pain.  The form of language in which they were expressed, she added, and the indefensible violation of all the laws of hospitality, blunted the severity of what they said.

“I am not ashamed,” she said, “of my attachment to the brave and generous young man who saved my father’s life.  He is of no vulgar birth, but a highly educated and a highly accomplished gentleman—­a man, in fact, my dear Mrs. Brown, whom no woman, be her rank in life ever so high or exalted, might blush to love.  I do not blush to make the avowal that I love him; but, unfortunately, in consequence of the existing laws of the country, my love for him, which I will never conceal, must be a hopeless one.”

“I regret the state of those laws, my dear Miss Folliard, as much as you do; but still their existence puts a breach between you and Reilly, and under those circumstances my advice to you is to overcome your affection for him if you can.  Marriage is out of the question.”

“It is not marriage I think of—­for that is out of the question—­but Reilly’s life and safety.  If he were safe, I should feel comparatively happy; happiness, in its full extent, I never can hope to enjoy; but if he were only safe—­if he were only safe, my dear Mrs. Brown!  I know that he is hunted like a beast of prey, and under such circumstances as disturb and distract the country, how can he escape?”

The kind-hearted lady consoled her as well as she could; but, in fact, her grounds for consolation were so slender that her arguments only amounted to those general observations which, commonplace as they are, we are in the habit of hearing from day to day.  Helen was too high-minded to shed tears, but Mrs. Brown could plainly perceive the depth of her emotion, and feel the extent of wrhat she suffered.

We shall not detail at further length the conversation of the other ladies—­if ladies they can be called; nor that of the gentlemen, after they entered the drawing-room.  Sir Robert Whitecraft attempted to enter into conversation with Helen, but found himself firmly and decidedly repulsed.  In point of fact, some of the gentlemen were not in a state to grace a drawing-room, and in a short time they took their leave and retired.