The latter, however, felt resolved to bring his rival still further within the toils he was preparing for him, an object which Reilly's candor very much facilitated. “Mr. Reilly,” said the squire, “I was not prepared to hear--a--a--hem--God bless me, it is very odd, very deplorable, very much to be regretted indeed!” “What is, sir?” asked Reilly. “Why, that you should be a Jesuit. I must confess I was not--ahem!--God bless me. I can't doubt your own word, certainly.” “Not on this subject,” observed the baronet coolly. “On no subject, sir,” replied Reilly, looking him sternly, and with an indignation that was kept within bounds only by his respect for the other parties, and the roof that covered him; “On no subject, Sir Robert Whitecraft, is my word to be doubted.” “I beg your pardon, sir,” replied the other, “I did not say so.” “I will neither have it said, sir, nor insinuated,” rejoined Reilly. “I received my education on the Continent because the laws of this country prevented me from receiving it here. I was placed in a Jesuit seminary, not by my own choice, but by that of my father, to whom I owed obedience. Your oppressive laws, sir, first keep us ignorant, and then punish us for the crimes which that ignorance produces.” “Do you call the laws of the country oppressive?” asked the baronet, with as much of a sneer as cowardice would permit him to indulge in. “I do, sir, and ever will consider them so, at least so long as they deprive myself and my Catholic fellow-countrymen of their civil and religious rights.” “That is strong language, though,” observed the other, “at this time of day.” “Mr. Reilly,” said the squire, “you seem to be very much attached to your religion.” “Just as much as I am to my life, sir, and would as soon give up the one as the other.” The squire's countenance literally became pale, his last hope was gone, and so great was his agitation that, in bringing a glass of wine to his lips, his hand trembled to such a degree that he spilled a part of it. This, however, was not all. A settled gloom--a morose, dissatisfied expression--soon overshadowed his features, from which disappeared all trace of that benignant, open, and friendly hospitality towards Reilly that had hitherto obtained from them. He and the baronet exchanged glances of whose import, if Reilly was ignorant, not so his beloved _Cooleen Bawn_. For the remainder of the evening the squire treated Reilly with great coolness; always addressing him as Mister, and evidently contemplating him in a spirit which partook of the feeling that animated Sir Robert Whitecraft. Helen rose to withdraw, and contrived, by a sudden glance at the door, and another as quick in the direction of the drawing-room, to let her lover know that she wished him to follow her soon. The hint was not lost, for in less than half an hour Reilly, who was of very temperate habits, joined her as she had hinted.