eilly--he who saved my life,
and, probably, was the means of rescuing you from worse than death?
Isn't he a fine--a noble young fellow?"

"Indeed, I think so, papa; he appear's to be a perfect gentleman."

"Hang perfect gentlemen, Helen! they are, some of them, the most
contemptible whelps upon earth. Hang me, but any fellow with a
long-bodied coat, tight-kneed breeches, or stockings and pantaloons,
with a watch in each fob, and a frizzled wig, is considered a perfect
gentleman--a perfect puppy, Helen, an accomplished trifle. Reilly,
however, is none of these, for he is not only a perfect gentleman, but a
brave man, who would not hesitate to risk his life in order to save
that of a fellow-creature, even although he is a Papist, and that
fellow-creature a Protestant."

"Well, then, papa, I grant you," she replied with a smile, which our
readers will understand, "I grant you that he is a--ahem!--all you
say."

"What a pity, Helen that he is a Papist."

"Why so, papa?"

"Because, if he was a staunch Protestant, by the great Deliverer that
saved us from brass money, wooden shoes, and so forth, I'd marry you and
him together. I'll tell you what, Helen, by the memory of Schomberg, I
have a project, and it is you that must work it out."

"Well, papa," asked his daughter, putting the question with a smile and
a blush, "pray what is this speculation?"

"Why, the fact is, I'll put him into your hands to convert him--make him
a staunch Protestant, and take him for your pains. Accomplish this, and
let long-legged, knock-kneed Whitecraft, and his twelve thousand a year,
go and bite some other fool as he bit me in 'Hop-and-go-constant.'"

"What are twelve thousand a year, papa, when you know that they could
not secure me happiness with such a wretch? Such a union, sir, could
not be--cannot be--must not be, and I will add, whilst I am in the
possession of will and reason, shall not be."

[Illustration: PAGE 28 (and Frontispiece)--You must endeavor to convert
him from Popery]

"Well, Helen," said her father, "if you are obstinate, so am I; but I
trust we shall never have to fight for it. We must have Reilly here, and
you must endeavor to convert him from Popery. If you succeed, I'll give
long-shanks his _nunc dimittis_, and send him home on a trot."

"Papa," she replied, "this will be useless--it will be ruin--I know
Reilly."

"The devil you do! When, may I ask, did you become acquainted?"

"I mean," she replied, blus