When this faithful girl found that she was about to be separated from her fair and affectionate young mistress, no language could depict the violence of her grief, nor could that mistress herself refuse the tribute of her tears to her sense of the loss which she knew she must sustain by her absence at a crisis when she stood so much in need of her friendship and attachment.
“Oh! it is not for myself, my dear mistress, that I feel this grief,” exclaimed Connor, weeping bitterly as she spoke, “but for you. Here you will be alone,” she proceeded, “without one being on whom you can depend, or to whom you can open your heart—for many a time you eased that poor heart by telling me of your love for him, and by dwellin' upon his accomplishments and beauty—and, indeed, it's no wonder you should, for where, oh! where is his aiquil to be found? Like yourself, every one that comes near him must love him; and, like you, again, isn't he charity itself to the poor, no matter what their creed may be—oh, no! it's he that is neither the bigot nor the oppressor, although God he knows what he himself is sufferin' from both. God's curse on that blasted Sir Robert Whitecraft! I declare to mercy, I think, if I was a man, that I'd shoot him, like a mad dog, and free the country of him at wanst.”
The Cooleen was herself in tears, occasioned by such a glowing picture of her lover, as well as by the loss of this faithful and devoted girl. Yet she could not repress a smile at the indignation expressed by Ellen against the man whom she looked upon with such detestation and abhorrence,
“My dear Ellen,” said she, drying her tears, “we must only have patience. Every thing is in the hands of God, and in him let us trust. Do not weep so. It is true that, without your society, I shall feel as if I were in a desert, or rather, I should say, in a dungeon; for, indeed, I fear that I am about to become a prisoner in my father's house, and entangled more and more every day in the meshes of that detestable villain. In the meantime, we must, as I said, have courage and patience, and trust to a change of circumstances for better times.”
“May the Lord in heaven grant them soon and sudden, for both your sakes,” ejaculated Ellen. “I pray the Saviour that he may!”
“But, Ellen,” said the Cooleen, “didn't you hint to me, once or twice, that you yourself have, or had, a lover named Reilly!”
“I did,” she replied, “not that I have, but that I had—and, what is more, an humble and distant relation of him.”
“You say you had. What do you mean by that, Ellen? Have you, too, experienced your crosses and calamities?”
“Indeed, ma'am, I have had my share; and I know too well what it is to have the heart within as full of sorrow, and all but broken.”
“Why, my poor girl, and have you too experienced disappointment and affliction?”