e inhabitants belonging
to the neighborhood was very limited. Go somewhere, however, he must.
Accordingly, he resolved to advance, at all events, as far as he might
be able to travel before bed-time, and then resign himself to chance
for a night's shelter. One might imagine, indeed, that his position as
a wealthy Roman Catholic gentleman, suffering persecution from the tool
and scourge of a hostile government, might have calculated upon shelter
and secrecy from those belonging to his own creed. And so, indeed, in
nineteen cases out of twenty he might; but in what predicament should
he find himself if the twentieth proved treacherous? And against this he
had no guarantee. That age was peculiarly marked by the foulest personal
perfidy, precipitated into action by rapacity, ingratitude, and the
blackest ambition. The son of a Roman Catholic gentleman, for instance,
had nothing more to do than change his creed, attach himself to the
government, become a spy and informer on his family, and he ousted his
own father at once out of his hereditary property--an ungrateful and
heinous proceeding, that was too common in the time of which we write.
Then, as to the people themselves, they were, in general, steeped in
poverty and ignorance, and this is certainly not surprising when
we consider that no man durst educate them. The government rewards,
therefore, assailed them with a double temptation. In the first, the
amount of it--taking their poverty into consideration--was calculated
to grapple with and overcome their scruples; and in the next, they were
certain by their treachery to secure the protection of government for
themselves.

Such, exactly, was the state of the country on the night when Reilly
found himself a solitary traveller on the road, ignorant of his destiny,
and uncertain where or in what quarter he might seek shelter until
morning.

He had not gone far when he overtook another traveller, with whom he
entered into conversation.

"God save you, my friend."

"God save you kindly, sir," replied the other; "was not this an awful
night?"

"If you may say so," returned Reilly unconsciously, and for the moment
forgetting himself, "well may I, my friend."

Indeed it is probable that Reilly was thrown somewhat off his guard by
the accent of his companion, from which he at once inferred that he was
a Catholic.

"Why, sir," replied the man, "how could it be more awful to you than to
any other man?"

"Suppose my hous