“Discharged!” replied Fergus with astonishment; “why, how did that come?  But I suppose I needn’t ask—­some of the mad old Squire’s tantrums, I suppose?  And what did the Cooleen Bawn herself say?”

“Why, she cried bitterly when I was lavin’ her; indeed if I had been her sister she couldn’t feel more; and, as might be expected from her, she promised to befriend me as long as she had it in her power; but, poor thing, if matters go against her, as I’m afeared they will—­if she’s forced to marry that villain, it is little for any thing that’s either good or generous ever she’ll have in her power; but marry him she never will I heard her say more than wanst that she’d take her own life first; and indeed I’m sartain she will, too, if she is forced to it.  Either that, or she’ll lose her senses; for, indeed, Fergus, the darlin’ girl was near losin’ them wanst or twist as it is—­may God pity and relieve her.”

“Amen,” replied Fergus.  “And you’re now on your way home, I suppose?”

“I am,” said Ellen, “and every thing belongin’ to me is to be sent to my father’s; but indeed, Fergus, I don’t much care now what becomes of me.  My happiness in this world is bound up in hers; and if she’s to be sunk in grief and sorrow, I can never be otherwise—­we’ll have the one fate, Fergus, and God grant it may be a happy one, although I see no likelihood of it.”

“Come, come, Ellen,” replied Fergus, “you think too much of it.  The one fate!—­No, you won’t, unless it is a happy one.  I am now free, as I said; and at present I see nothing to stand between your happiness and mine.  We loved one another every bit as well as Reilly and she does—­ay, and do still, I hope; and, if they can’t be happy, that’s no raison why you and I shouldn’t.  Happy!  There’s nothing to prevent us from bein’ so.  I am free, as I said; and all we have to do is to lave this unfortunate country and go to some other, where there’s neither oppression nor persecution.  If you consent to this, Ellen, I can get the means of bringing us away, and of settlin’ comfortably in America.”

“And I to leave the Cooleen Bawn in the uncertain state she’s in?  No, never, Fergus—­never.”

“Why? of what use can you be to her now, and you separated from her—­ay, and without the power of doin’ any thing to sarve her?”

“Fergus,” said she, resolutely, “it’s useless at the present time to speak to me on this subject.  I’m glad you’ve got yourself from among these cruel and unconscionable Rapparees—­I’m glad you’re free; but I tell you that if you had the wealth of Squire Folliard—­ay, or of Whitecraft himself, which they say is still greater, I wouldn’t become your wife so long as she’s in the state she’s in.”

“That’s strong language, Ellen, and I am sorry to hear it from you.  My God! can you think of nobody’s happiness but the Cooleen Bawn’s?  As for me, it’s my opinion I like Reilly as well every bit as you do her; but, for all that, not even the state he’s in, nor the danger that surrounds him, would prevent me from marryin’ a wife—­from bindin’ your heart and mine together for life, my darlin’ Ellen.”