“There is great truth in what you say, my dear Reilly, and on thinking over the circumstances of the country, I am indeed of opinion that your advice is good; but, unfortunately, my present poverty prevents me from acting on it.”

“But that shall not be, my lord; I have the means—­amply, too—­of enabling your lordship to withdraw to the Continent, where you can remain quite safe until better times return, as I hope in God they will soon.”

“And yourself, Reilly? why not accompany me?  You, it is said, are outlawed; why then remain in a country where your danger is still greater than mine?”

“My lord,” replied Reilly, “do not press me on that subject.”

“I do not wish to do so, Reilly; but here are the circumstances:  you and the beautiful daughter of that old squire are attached—­in other words, you love each other passionately.  Now, you know, marriage is impossible, unless you should abandon the creed of your fathers.”

“I think, my lord,” replied Reilly, in a very serious and somewhat offended tone, “that my conduct this day, and within the last half hour, was not that of a man likely to abandon the creed of his fathers.”

“Certainly not—­most certainly not,” replied the bishop.  “I would have died this day for my religion, and so would you.”

“And so would I certainly, my lord, any day, sooner than renounce it for the love of woman.  So far let your lordship’s mind be at rest.  But in the meantime, let me impress upon your lordship’s consideration the absolute necessity of retiring to the Continent for a time.  Your lordship’s charity has made you poor; but, thank God, I am not poor—­but in a position to place L200 in your hands to enable you to bear the expenses of your voyage, and to maintain your ecclesiastical rank and position for a time, when you get there.”

“Oh,” replied the bishop, “if I were once there, very little money would be necessary; I could almost immediately get a professorship of divinity, especially in the College of Louvain, where I held a professorship for several years.”

It was arranged that the bishop should go, at least until the times should change, and in the course of a week, Reilly having furnished him with the necessary funds, he departed and reached the Continent in safety.

Their separation was extremely affecting.  The bishop wept bitterly, not only in consequence of his parting with Reilly, but still more because he was forced to separate himself from his flock.  Reilly was deeply affected, nor could he restrain his tears.  The bishop put his hand on his head and blessed him.  “I feel,” said he, “as if it were a prophetic impulse, that God will bring you out of the tribulations that encompass you.  Forget not his word nor his law; love and adhere to your religion; be guided by its precepts, let them sink deeply into your heart.  Take care, also, that the love of woman shall not seduce you from your allegiance to our Church.  And now, may the Almighty God bless and protect you, and rescue you from the hands and the snares of your enemies!” And so they parted.