“No more a jade of perdition, sir, than you are; nor I shan’t begone till I gets a quarter’s wages—­I tell you that.”

“You shall get whatever’s coming to you; not another penny.  The house-steward will pay you—­begone, I say!”

“No, sir, I shan’t begone till I gets a, quarter’s salary in full.  You broke your agreement with me, wich is wat no man as is a gentleman would do; and you are puttin’ me away, too, without no cause.”

“Cause, you vagabond! you’ll find the cause squalling, I suppose, in Mary Mahon’s cottage, somewhere near Sir Robert Whitecraft’s; and when you see him, tell him I have a crow to pluck with him.  Off, I say.”

“Oh, I suppose you mean the love-child I had by him—­ha, ha! is that all?  But I never had a hankerin’ after a rebel and a Papist, which is far worser; and I now tell you you’re no gentleman, you nasty old Hirish squire.  You brought me here, and Sir Robert sent me here, to watch your daughter.  Now, what kind of a young lady must she be as requires watching?  I was never watched; because as how I was well conducted, and nothing could ever be laid to my charge but a love-child.”

“By the great Boyne,” he exclaimed, running to the window and throwing up the sash—­“yes, by the great Boyne, there is Tom Steeple, and if he doesn’t bring you and the pump acquainted, I’m rather mistaken.  Here, Tom, I have a job for you.  Do you wish to earn a bully dinner, my boy?”

Miss Herbert, on hearing Tom’s name mentioned, disappeared like lightning, and set about packing her things immediately.  The steward, by his master’s desire, paid her exactly what was due to her, which she received without making a single observation.  In truth, she entertained such a terror of Tom Steeple, who had been pointed out to her as a wild Irishman, not long caught in the mountains, that she stole out by the back way, and came, by making a circuit, out upon the road that led to Sir Robert Whitecraft’s house, which she passed without entering, but went directly to Mary Malion’s, who had provided a nurse for her illegitimate child in the neighborhood.  She had not been there long when she sent her trusty friend, Mary, to acquaint Sir Robert with what had happened.  He was from home, engaged in an expedition of which we feel called upon to give some account to the reader.

At this period, when the persecution ran high against the Catholics, but with peculiar bitterness against their priesthood, it is but justice to a great number of the Protestant magistracy and gentry—­nay, and many of the nobility besides—­to state that their conduct was both liberal and generous to the unfortunate victims of those cruel laws.  It is a well known fact that many Protestant justices of the peace were imprisoned for refusing to execute such oppressive edicts as had gone abroad through the country.  Many of them resigned their commissions, and many more were deprived of them.  Amongst the latter were several liberal noblemen—­Protestants—­who