“Now,” said he, “what a devil of a hubbub you all make about nothing!  Pray, young lady,” addressing Esther Wilson, who alone had divulged the circumstance, “did his honor desire you to keep what you seen saicret?”

“He did, cook, he did,” replied Esther; “and gave us money not to speak about it, which is a proof of his guilt.”

“And the first thing you did was to blaze it to the whole kitchen!  I’ll tell you what it is now—­if he ever hears that you breathed a syllable of it to mortal man, you won’t be under his roof two hours.”

“Oh, but, surely, cook—­”

“Oh, but, surely, madam,” replied Lanigan, “you talk of what you don’t understand; his honor knows very well what he’s about, mid has authority for it.”

This sobered her to some purpose; and Lanigan proceeded to execute his master’s orders.

It is true Miss Esther and Malcomson were now silent, for their own sakes; but it did not remove their indignation; so far from that, Lanigan himself came in for a share of it, and was secretly looked upon in the light of the squire’s confidant in the transaction.

Whilst matters were in this position, the Red Rapparee began gradually to lose the confidence of his unscrupulous employer.  He had promised that worthy gentleman to betray his former gang, and deliver them up to justice, in requital for the protection which he received from him.  This he would certainly have done, were it not for Fergus, who, happening to meet one of them a day or two after the Rapparee had taken service with Whitecraft upon the aforesaid condition,—­informed the robber of that fact, and advised him, if he wished to provide for his own safety and that of his companions, to desire them forthwith to leave the country, and, if possible, the kingdom.  They accordingly took the hint; some of them retired to distant and remote places, and others went beyond seas for their security.  The promise, therefore, which the Rapparee had made to the baronet as a proof of gratitude for his protection, he now found himself incapable of fulfilling, in consequence of the dispersion and disappearance of his band.  When he stated this fact to Sir Robert, he gained little credit from him; and the consequence was that his patron felt disposed to think that he was not a man to be depended on.  Still, what he had advanced in his own defence might be true; and although his confidence in him was shaken, he resolved to maintain him yet in his service, and that for two reasons—­one of which was, that by having him under his eye, and within his grasp, he could pounce upon him at any moment; the other was, that, as he knew, from the previous shifts and necessities of his own lawless life, all those dens and recesses and caverns to which the Catholic priesthood, and a good number of the people, were obliged to fly and conceal themselves, he must necessarily be a useful guide to him as a priest-hunter.  It is true he assured him that he had procured his pardon