“Repentance, Helen! How the deuce could a man feel repentance who does not believe the Christian religion?”
“But then, sir, has he not the reputation of being a sound and leading Protestant?”
“Oh, hang his reputation; it is not of him I wish to speak to you, but Reilly.”
Helen's heart beat rapidly and thickly, but she spoke not.
“Yes,” said he, “I have a project in my head that I think may save Reilly.”
“Pray, what is it, may I ask, papa?”
“No, you may not; but to-morrow I will give him an early call, and let you know how I succeed, after my return to dinner; yes, I will tell you after dinner. But listen, Helen, it is the opinion of the baronet's friends that they will be able to save him.”
“I hope they may, sir; I should not wish to see any fellow-creature brought to an ignominious death in the midst of his offences, and in the prime of life.”
“But, on the contrary, if he swings, we are bound to sacrifice one of the Papist party for him, and Reilly is the man. Now don't look so pale, Helen—don't look as if death was settled in your face; his fate may be avoided; but ask me nothing—the project's my own, and I will communicate it to no one until after I shall have ascertained whether I fail in it or not.”
“I trust, sir, it will be nothing that will involve him in anything dishonorable; but why do I ask? He is incapable of that.”