separation which might probably be their last. Our readers, however, may
very well conceive it, and it is not our intention to describe it
here. At this stage of our story, Reilly, who was, as we have said,
in consequence of his gentlemanly manners and liberal principles,
a favorite with all classes and all parties, and entertained no
apprehensions from the dominant party, took his way homewards deeply
impressed with the generous affections which his _Cooleen Bawn_ had
expressed for him. He consequently looked upon himself as perfectly safe
in his own house. The state of society in Ireland, however, was at that
melancholy period so uncertain that no Roman Catholic, however popular,
or however innocent, could for one week calculate upon safety either to
his property or person, if he happened to have an enemy who possessed
any influence in the opposing Church. Religion thus was made the
stalking-horse, not only of power, but of persecution, rapacity, and
selfishness, and the unfortunate Roman Catholic who considered himself
safe to-day might find himself ruined tomorrow, owing to the cupidity
of some man who turned a lustful eye upon his property, or who may have
entertained a feeling of personal ill-will against him. Be this as it
may, Reilly wended his melancholy way homewards, and had got within less
than a quarter of a mile of his own house when he was met by Fergus in
his mendicant habit, who startled him by the information he disclosed.

"Where are you bound for, Mr. Reilly?" said the latter.

"For home," replied Reilly, "in order to secure my money and the papers
connected with the family property."

"Well, then," said the other, "if you go home now you are a lost man."

"How is that?" asked Reilly.