Come this night, at half-past ten, to the back gate of our garden, which you will find shut, but unlocked.

Something--is it my heart ?--tells me that our fates are henceforth inseparable, whether for joy or sorrow.

I ought to tell you that I confessed my affection for you to papa on the evening you dined here, and he was not angry; but this morning he insisted that I should never think of you more, nor mention your name; and he says that if the laws can do it he will lose ten thousand pounds or he will have you sent out of the country.

Lanigan, our cook, from what motive I know not, mentioned to me the substance of what I have now written.

He is, it seems, a cousin to the bearer of this, and got the information from him after having had much difficulty, he says, in putting it together.
I know not how it is, but I can assure you that every servant in the castle seems to know that I am attached to you.
"Ever, my dearest Reilly, yours, and yours only, until death, "Helen Folliard." We need not attempt to describe the sensations of love and indignation produced by this letter.