“Ay, ay,” rejoined her husband; “but, faith, it was you that proved yourself the active girl that night, at any rate.  However, I hope the Lord will grant her grace to go, wid him, at all events, for, upon my sowl, it would be a great boast for the Catholics—­bekaise we know there is one thing sure, and that is, that the divil a long she’d be wid him till he’d have left her fit to face Europe as a Christian and a Catholic, bekaise every wife ought to go wid her husband, barrin’ he’s a Prodestant.”

Poor Ellen paid little attention to this conversation.  She felt deeply depressed, and, after many severe struggles to restrain herself, at last burst into tears.

“Come, darlin’,” said her father, “don’t let this affair cast you down so much; all will yet turn out for the betther, I hope.  Cheer up, avillish; maybe that, down-hearted as you are, I have good news for you.  Your ould sweetheart was here this evenin’, and hopes soon to have his pardon—­he’s a dacent boy, and has good blood in his veins; and as for his joinin’ O’Donnel, it wasn’t a a bad heart set him to do it, but the oppression that druv him, as it did many others, to take the steps he took—­oppression on the one side, and bitterness of heart on the other.”

“I saw him awhile ago,” she replied, “and he tould me a good deal about himself.  But, indeed, father, it’s not of him I’m thinkin’, but on the darlin’ girl that’s on the brink of destruction, and what I know she’s sufferin’.”

“I wondher where Reilly is,” said her mother.  “My goodness! sure he ought to make a push, and take her off at wanst.  I dunna is he in the country at all?  What do you think, Ellen?”

“Indeed, mother,” she replied, “very few, I believe, knows any thing about him.  All I’m afraid of is, that, wherever he may be, he’ll hardly escape discovery.”

“Well,” said her father, “I’ll tell you what we’ll do.  Let us kneel down and offer up ten pathers, ten aves, and a creed, that the Lord may protect them both from their enemies, and grant them a happy marriage, in spite of laws, parliaments, magistrates, spies, persecutors and priest-hunters, and, as our hands are in, let us offer up a few that God may confound that villain, Whitecraft, and bring him snugly to the gallows.”

This was immediately complied with, in a spirit of earnestness surpassing probably what they might have felt had they been praying for their own salvation.  The prayers having been concluded, and supper prepared, in due time the family retired to rest for the night.

When Fergus Reilly took his leave of Ellen, he directed his steps to the cottage of Mrs. Buckley, where, for certain purpose connected with his designs on the Red Rapparee, he had been in the habit of meeting:  the sagacious fool, Tom Steeple.  It was there, besides, that he had left his disguise, which the unaccomplished progress of his projects rendered it necessary that he should once more resume.  This,