When Ellen saw him she felt a tumult in her bosom which almost overcame her.  Her heart palpitated almost audibly, and her knees became feeble under her.  There was something so terrible associated with the idea of a Rapparee that she took it for granted that some frightful transformation of person and character must have taken place in him, and that she would now meet a man thoroughly imbued with all the frightful and savage vices which were so frequently, and too often so generally, attributed to that fierce and formidable class.  Still, the recollection of their former affection, and her knowledge of the oppression which had come upon himself and his family, induced her to hope that the principles of humanity could not have been altogether effaced from his heart.  Full of doubt and anxiety, therefore, she paused at the stile, against which she felt it necessary to lean for support, not without a touch of interest and somewhat of curiosity, to control the vague apprehensions which she could not help feeling.  We need scarcely inform the reader that the meeting on both sides was accidental and unexpected.

“Heavenly Father!” exclaimed Ellen, in a voice trembling with agitation, “is this Fergus O’Reilly that I see before me?  Fergus, ruined and undone!” She then looked cautiously about her, and added, “Fergus, the Rapparee!”

“God bless me!” he exclaimed in return, “and may I ask, is this Ellen Connor on my path?”

“Well, I think I may say so, in one sense.  Sure enough, I am Ellen Connor; but, unfortunately, not the Ellen Connor that you wanst knew; neither, unfortunately again, are you the Fergus O’Reilly that I wanst knew.  We are both changed, Fergus—­I into sorrow, and you into crime.”

“Ellen,” said he, nearly as much agitated as herself, “I stand before you simply as Fergus O’Seilly, but not Fergus the Rapparee.”

“You will not deny your own words to my father,” she replied.

“No, Ellen, I will not—­they were true then, but, thank God, they are not true now.”

“How is that, Fergus?”

“Simply because I was a Rapparee when I spoke to your father; but I have left them, once and for ever.”

“How long have you left them?”

“Ever since that night.  If it were not for Reilly and those that were out with him duck-shooting, the red villain would have murdered the squire and Andy Cummiskey, as sure as there is life in my body.  After all, it is owin’ to Mr. Reilly that I left him and his cursed crew.  And now, Ellen, that I have met you, let me spake to you about ould times.  In the first place, I am heart sorry for the step I took; but you know it was oppression and persecution that drove me to it.”

“Fergus,” she replied, “that’s no excuse.  Persecution may come upon us, but that’s no reason why we should allow it to drive us into evil and crime.  Don’t you know that it’s such conduct that justifies the persecutors in their own eyes and in the eyes of the world.  What will become of you now?  If you’re caught, you must die a shameful death.”