“But I care not.  I am willing to endure it all for your sake.”

“What!—­the shame, the misinterpretation, the imputed guilt?”

“Neither care I for shame or imputed guilt, so long as I am innocent, and you safe.”

“Concealment, my dearest girl, would be impossible.  Such a hue and cry would be raised after us as would render nothing short of positive invisibility capable of protecting us from our enemies.  Then your father!—­such a step might possibly break his heart; a calamity which would fill your mind with remorse to the last day of your life!”

She burst again into tears, and replied, “But as for you, what can be done to save you from the toils of your unscrupulous and powerful enemies?”

“To that, my beloved Helen, I must forthwith look.  In the meantime, let me gather patience and await some more favorable relaxation in the penal code.  At present, the step you propose would be utter destruction to us both, and an irretrievable stain upon our reputation.  You will return to your father’s house, and I shall seek some secure place of concealment until I can safely reach the continent, from whence I shall contrive to let you hear from me, and in due time may possibly be able to propose some mode of meeting in a country where the oppressive laws that separate us here shall not stand in the way of our happiness.  In the meanwhile let our hearts be guided by hope and constancy.”  After a mournful and tender embrace they separated.

It would be impossible to describe the agony of the lovers after a separation which might probably be their last.  Our readers, however, may very well conceive it, and it is not our intention to describe it here.  At this stage of our story, Reilly, who was, as we have said, in consequence of his gentlemanly manners and liberal principles, a favorite with all classes and all parties, and entertained no apprehensions from the dominant party, took his way homewards deeply impressed with the generous affections which his Cooleen Bawn had expressed for him.  He consequently looked upon himself as perfectly safe in his own house.  The state of society in Ireland, however, was at that melancholy period so uncertain that no Roman Catholic, however popular, or however innocent, could for one week calculate upon safety either to his property or person, if he happened to have an enemy who possessed any influence in the opposing Church.  Religion thus was made the stalking-horse, not only of power, but of persecution, rapacity, and selfishness, and the unfortunate Roman Catholic who considered himself safe to-day might find himself ruined tomorrow, owing to the cupidity of some man who turned a lustful eye upon his property, or who may have entertained a feeling of personal ill-will against him.  Be this as it may, Reilly wended his melancholy way homewards, and had got within less than a quarter of a mile of his own house when he was met by Fergus in his mendicant habit, who startled him by the information he disclosed.