“Ah, Mr. Folliard,” said Smellpriest, “you don't know the value of that woman. When I return, for instance, after a hunt, the first question she puts to me is--Well, my love, how many priests did you catch to-day? And out comes Mr. Strong with the same question. Strong, however, between ourselves, is a goose; he will believe any thing, and often sends me upon a cold trail. Now, I pledge you my honor, gentlemen, that this man, who is all zeal, has sent me out dozens of times, with the strictest instructions as to where I'd catch my priest; but, hang me, if ever I caught a single priest upon his instructions yet! still, although unfortunate in this kind of sport, his heart is in the right place. Whitecraft, my worthy brother sportsman, how does it happen that Reilly continues to escape you?” “Why does he continue to escape yourself, captain?” replied the baronet. “Why,” said the other, “because I am more in the ecclesiastical line, and, besides, he is considered to be, in an especial manner, your game.” “I will have him yet, though,” said Whitecraft, “if he should assume as many shapes as Proteus.” “By the way, Whitecraft,” observed Folliard, “they tell me you burned the unfor--you burned the scoundrel's house and offices.” “I wish you had been present at the bonfire, sir,” replied his intended son-in-law; “it would have done your heart good.” “I daresay,” said the squire; “but still, what harm did his house and place do you? I know the fellow is a Jesuit, a rebel, and an outlaw--at least you tell me so; and you must know. But upon what authority did you burn the rascal out?” “As to that,” returned the baronet, “the present laws against Popery and the general condition of the times are a sufficient justification; and I do not think that I am likely to be brought over the coals for it; on the contrary, I look upon myself as a man who, in burning the villain out, have rendered a very important service to Government.” “I regret, Sir Robert,” observed Mr. Brown, “that you should have disgraced yourself by such an oppressive act. I know that throughout the country your conduct to this young man is attributed to personal malice rather than to loyalty.” “The country may put what construction on my conduct it pleases,” he replied, “but I know I shall never cease till I hang him.” Mr. Hastings was a man of very few words; but he had an eye the expression of which could not be mistaken--keen, manly, and firm. He sat sipping his wine in silence, but turned from time to time a glance upon the baronet, which was not only a searching one, but seemed to have something of triumph in it. “What do you say, Hastings?” asked Whitecraft; “can you not praise a loyal subject, man?” “I say nothing, Sir Robert,” he replied; “but I think occasionally.” “Well, and what do you think occasionally?” “Why, that the times may change.”