“Why, I must confess there is,” replied the sheriff; “he is obstinate and headstrong, especially if opposed, and she will find it necessary to oppose him—­and she will oppose him.  I myself have had a conversation with her on the subject, and she is firm as fate against such a union; and I will tell you more, Reilly—­it was she who principally engaged me to protect you as far as I could, and so I shall, you may rest assured of it.  I had only to name you a few minutes ago, and your fate was sealed.  But, even if she had never spoken to me on the subject, I could not fend myself to the cruel plots of that villain.  God knows, in consequence of my official situation, I am put upon tasks that are very painful to me; levying fines from men who are harmless and inoffensive, who are peaceable members of society, who teach the people to be moral, well-conducted, and obedient to the laws, and who do not themselves violate them.  Now,” he added, “be advised by me, and disguise yourself.”

“Sir,” said Reilly, “your sentiments do you honor; I am this moment on my way to put on a disguise, which has been procured for me.  I agree with you and other friends that it would be impossible for me to remain in the country in my own natural aspect and dress.  Allow me, before I go, to express my sense of your kindness, and believe me I shall never forget it.”

“The disguise, above all things,” said the sheriff, smiling and holding out his hand.  Reilly seized it with a warm pressure; they bid each other farewell, and so they parted.

Reilly then wound his way to the cottage of Mrs. Buckle, but not by the public road.  He took across the fields, and, in due time, reached her humble habitation.  Here he found the disguise, which his friend Fergus had provided-a half-worn frieze coat, a half-worn caubeen, and a half-worn pair of corduroy breeches, clouted brogues, and Connemara stockings, also the worse for the wear, with two or three coarse shirts, in perfect keeping with, the other portion of the disguise.

“Well, Mrs. Buckley,” said he, “how have you been since I saw you last?”

“Oh, then, Mr. Reilly,” said she, “it’s a miracle from God that you did not think of stopping here!  I had several visits from the sogers who came out to look for you.”

“Well, I suppose so, Mrs. Buckley; but it was one comfort that they did not find me.”

“God be praised for that!” replied the poor woman, with tears in her eyes; “it would a’ broken my heart if you had been catched in my little place.”

“But, Mrs. Buckley,” said Reilly, “were there any plain clothes left for me here?”

“Oh, indeed there was, sir,” she replied, “and I have them safe for you; but, in the meantime, I’ll go outside, and have an eye about the country, for somehow they have taken it into their heads that this would be a very likely place to find you.”

While she was out, Reilly changed his dress, and in a few minutes underwent such a metamorphosis that poor Mrs. Buckley, on reentering the house, felt quite alarmed.