“Thank you, my dear papa; but let me ask why it is that you are so active in stirring up his party to defend such a man?”

“Foolish girl,” he replied; “it is not the man, but the cause and principle, we defend.”

“What, papa, the cause! bloodshed and persecution!  I believe you to be possessed of a humane heart, papa; but, notwithstanding his character and his crimes, I do not wish the unfortunate man to be struck into the grave without repentance.”

“Repentance, Helen!  How the deuce could a man feel repentance who does not believe the Christian religion?”

“But then, sir, has he not the reputation of being a sound and leading Protestant?”

“Oh, hang his reputation; it is not of him I wish to speak to you, but Reilly.”

Helen’s heart beat rapidly and thickly, but she spoke not.

“Yes,” said he, “I have a project in my head that I think may save Reilly.”

“Pray, what is it, may I ask, papa?”

“No, you may not; but to-morrow I will give him an early call, and let you know how I succeed, after my return to dinner; yes, I will tell you after dinner.  But listen, Helen, it is the opinion of the baronet’s friends that they will be able to save him.”

“I hope they may, sir; I should not wish to see any fellow-creature brought to an ignominious death in the midst of his offences, and in the prime of life.”

“But, on the contrary, if he swings, we are bound to sacrifice one of the Papist party for him, and Reilly is the man.  Now don’t look so pale, Helen—­don’t look as if death was settled in your face; his fate may be avoided; but ask me nothing—­the project’s my own, and I will communicate it to no one until after I shall have ascertained whether I fail in it or not.”

“I trust, sir, it will be nothing that will involve him in anything dishonorable; but why do I ask?  He is incapable of that.”

“Well, well, leave the matter in my hand; and now, upon the strength of my project, I’ll take another bumper of Burgundy, and drink to its success.”

Helen pleaded some cause for withdrawing, as she entertained an apprehension that he might introduce the topic which she most dreaded—­that of her duty to give evidence against Reilly.  When she was gone he began to ponder over several subjects connected with the principal characters of this narrative until he became drowsy, during which period halters, gibbets, gallowses, hangmen, and judges jumbled each other alternately through his fancy, until he fell fast asleep in his easy-chair.

CHAPTER XXIII.—­The Squire becomes Theological and a Proselytizer, but signally fails.

The next morning he and Cummiskey started for Sligo, and, as usual, when they reached the jail the turnkey was about to conduct the squire to Sir Robert’s room, when the former turned and said: 

“I wish to see Mr. Reilly; lead me to his cell.”