Having satisfied himself as to the identity of master and man, with a glance at his companions, the Rapparee said, "What on earth brought you and Andy Cummiskey here, noble squire?
Oh! you lost your way Andy says.

Well now," he proceeded, "you know I have been many a day and night on the lookout for you; aye, could have put daylight through you many and many a time; and what do you think prevented me ?" "Fear of God, or of the gallows, I hope," replied the intrepid old man.
"Well," returned the Rapparee, with a smile of scorn, "I'm not a man--as I suppose you may know--that ever feared either of them much--God forgive me for the one, I don't ask his forgiveness for the other.

No, Squire Folliard, it was the goodness, the kindness, the generosity, and the charity of the _Cooleen Bawn_, your lovely daughter, that held my hand.

You persecuted my old uncle, the priest, and you would a' hanged him too, for merely marryin' a Protestant and a Catholic together.

Well, sir, your fair daughter, and her good mother--that's now in heaven, I hope--went up to Dublin to the Lord Lieutenant, and before him the _Cooleen Bawn_, went on her two knees and begged my uncle's life, and got it; for the Lord Lieutenant said that no one could deny her any thing.