After Smellpriest had drawn off his men, the bishop concluded the ceremony of the mass; but when he turned round to announce its conclusion in the words, _ite, missa est_, there was not a soul before him, the terrified congregation, as we have said, having all betaken themselves to flight. Reilly then assisted him to unrobe, and placed the vestments, the chalice, pix, and every thing connected with the ceremony, in a pair of saddle-bags, which belonged to the parish priest, whose altar was then closed, as we said, by proclamation. Reilly and the bishop then proceeded to the farmer's house, Reilly carrying the saddlebags, and as they went along the following conversation took place between them: “My lord,” said his companion, “if I might presume to advise you, I think it would be more prudent for you to retire to the Continent for a time. This ferocious captain, who, subdued by the sublime tenor of your conduct, spared you on this occasion, may not under other and less impressive circumstances, exercise a similar forbearance.” “But, my dear Reilly,” replied the bishop, in a tone of deep melancholy, “I am not in circumstances to go to the Continent; I am poor; most of my available money I have distributed among the unhappy people, until I am now nearly as poor as themselves; but, independently of that, I do not think it would be right to abandon the charge which God has entrusted to my keeping. The shepherd should not desert his flock, especially in the moment of danger, when the wolves ire abroad.” “But, my lord,” replied Reilly, “under the present circumstances of the country your residence here can be of no service to them. The chapels are all closed, and public worship forbidden by law. This cannot, and, I hope, will not, last long; but in the meantime, think if it be not wiser in you to go for a time into what I may call a voluntary exile, than be forced into banishment by a cruel edict of the law, as you will be if you should be discovered.” “There is great truth in what you say, my dear Reilly, and on thinking over the circumstances of the country, I am indeed of opinion that your advice is good; but, unfortunately, my present poverty prevents me from acting on it.” “But that shall not be, my lord; I have the means--amply, too--of enabling your lordship to withdraw to the Continent, where you can remain quite safe until better times return, as I hope in God they will soon.” “And yourself, Reilly? why not accompany me? You, it is said, are outlawed; why then remain in a country where your danger is still greater than mine?” “My lord,” replied Reilly, “do not press me on that subject.” “I do not wish to do so, Reilly; but here are the circumstances: you and the beautiful daughter of that old squire are attached--in other words, you love each other passionately. Now, you know, marriage is impossible, unless you should abandon the creed of your fathers.”