as an abomination that ought to be removed from the land.  Still, he was cautious and shrewd, and seldom or never permitted those opinions to interfere with or obstruct his own interests.  Be this is it may, the secret was not long kept.  Esther Wilson impeached her master’s loyalty, and she herself was indignantly assailed for her treachery by Molly Finigan, who hoped in her soul that her master and young mistress would both die in the true Church yet.

The whole kitchen was in a buzz; in fact, a regular scene ensued.  Every one spoke, except Lanigan, who, from former experience, understood the case perfectly; but, as for Malcomson, whose zeal on this occasion certainly got the better of his discretion, he seemed thunderstruck.

“Eh, sirs! did ony one ever hear the like o’ this?—­to hide a rebel priest frae the offended laws!  But it canna be that this puir man is athegether right in his head.  Lord ha’e a care o’ us! the man surely must be demented, or he wouldna venture to bring such a person into his ain house—­into the vara house.  I think, Maisther Lanigan, it wad be just a precious bit o’ service to religion and our laws to gang and tell the next magistrate.  Gude guide us! what an example he is settin’ to his loyal neighbors, and his hail connections!  That ever we should see the like o’ this waefu’ backsliding at his years!  Lord ha’e a care o’ us, I say aince mair.”

“Oh, but there’s more to come,” said one of them, for, in the turmoil produced by this shocking intelligence, they had forgotten to deliver the message to Lanigan.

“Mr. Lanigan,” said Esther, and her breath was checked by a hysteric hiccup, “Mr. Lanigan, you are to bring up the key of the green-room, and plenty of venison, roast beef, and a bottle of wine!  There!”

“Baal, Maisther Lanigan, I winna stay langer under this roof; it’s nae cannie; I’ll e’en gang out, and ha’e some nonsense clavers wi’ yon queer auld carl i’ the gerden.  The Lord ha’e a eare o’ us!—­what will the warld come to next!”

He accordingly repaired to the garden, where the first thing he did was to give a fearful account to Reilly of their master’s political profligacy.  The latter felt surprised, but not at all at Malcomson’s narrative.  The fact was, he knew the exact circumstances of the case, because he knew the squire’s character, which was sometimes good, and sometimes the reverse—­just according to the humor he might be in:  and in reply observed to Malcomson, that—­

“As his honor done a great dale o’ good! to the poor o’ the counthry, I think it wouldn’t be daicent in us, Misther Malcomson, to go for to publish this generous act to the poor priesht; if he is wrong, let us lave him to Gad, shir.”

“Ou ay, weel I dinna but you’re richt; the mair that we won’t hae to answer for his transgressions; sae e’en let every herring hang by its ain tail.”

In the meantime, Lanigan, who understood the affair well enough, addressed the audience in the kitchen to the following effect: