When he saw her he exclaimed with something like disappointment:-- "Ah! Ellen dear, why did you come?
I would rather you hadn't crossed me now, darling." His manner was marked by the same melancholy sedateness which we have already described.

He knew the position in which he stood, and did not attempt to disguise what he felt.

His apparent depression, however, had a dreadful effect upon Ellen, who sat down on a stool, and threw back the hood of her cloak; but the aunt placed a little circular arm-chair for her somewhat nearer the fire.

She declined it in a manner that argued something like incoherence, which occasioned O'Rorke to, glance at her most earnestly.

He started, on observing the wild lustre of her eye, and the woebegone paleness of her cheek.
"Ellen," said he, "how is this?
Has any thing frightened you?
Merciful mother! aunt, look at her!" The distracted girl sank before him on her knees, locked her hands together, and while her eyes sparkled with an unsettled light, exclaimed-- "John!--John!--Lamh Laudher Oge--forgive me, before you die! I have murdered you!" "Ellen love, Ellen"-- "Do you forgive me?
do you?
Your blood is upon me, Lamh Laudher Oge!" "Heavens above! Aunt, she's turned! Do I forgive you, my heart's own treasure?
How did you ever offend me, my darling?
You.