“Wasn't that a terrible act, sir—the burning of Mr. Reilly's house and place?”
“Who is Mr. Reilly?” asked the other.
“A Catholic gintleman, sir, that the soldiers are afther,” replied the man.
“And perhaps it is right that they should be after him. What did he do? The Catholics are too much in the habit of violating the law, especially their priests, who persist in marrying Protestants and Papists together, although they know it is a hanging matter. If they deliberately put their necks into the noose, who can pity them?”
“It seems they do, then,” replied the man in a subdued voice; “and what is still more strange, it very often happens that persons of their own creed are somewhat too ready to come down wid a harsh word upon 'em.”
“Well, my friend,” responded Reilly, “let them not deserve it; let them obey the law.”
“And are you, of opinion, sir,” asked the man with a significant emphasis upon the personal pronoun which we have put in italics; “are you of opinion, sir, that obedience to the law is always a security to either person or property?”
The direct force of the question could not be easily parried, at least by Reilly, to whose circumstances it applied so powerfully, and he consequently paused for a little to shape his thoughts into the language he wished to adopt; the man, however, proceeded:
“I wonder what Mr. Reilly would say if such a question was put to him?”
“I suppose,” replied Reilly, “he would say much as I say—that neither innocence nor obedience is always a security under any law or any constitution either.”