xisted, however, one
individual who was the object of almost as deep a compassion; this was
her father, who was consumed by the bitterest and most profound remorse.
His whole character became changed by his terrible and unexpected shock,
by which his beautiful and angelic daughter had been blasted before
his eyes. He was no longer the boisterous and convivial old squire,
changeful and unsettled in all his opinions, but silent, quiet, and
abstracted almost from life.

He wept incessantly, but his tears did not bring him comfort, for they
were tears of anguish and despair. Ten times a day he would proceed to
her chamber, or follow her to the garden where she loved to walk, always
in the delusive hope that he might catch some spark of returning reason
from those calm-looking but meaningless eyes, after which he would weep
like a child. With respect to his daughter, every thing was done for
her that wealth and human means could accomplish, but to no purpose; the
malady was too deeply seated to be affected by any known remedy, whether
moral or physical. From the moment she was struck into insanity she
was never known to smile, or to speak, unless when she chanced to see a
stranger, upon which she immediately approached, and asked, with clasped
hands:

"Oh! can you tell me where is William Reilly? They have taken me from
him, and, I cannot find him. Oh! can you tell me where is William
Reilly?"

There was, however, another individual upon whose heart the calamity of
the _Cooleen Bawn_ fell like a blight that seemed to have struck it into
such misery and sorrow as threatened to end only with life. This was
the faithful and attached Ellen Connor. On the day of Reilly's trial
she experienced the alternations of hope, uncertainty, and despair, with
such a depth of anxious feeling, and such feverish excitement, that the
period of time which elapsed appeared to her as if it would never come
to an end. She could neither sit, nor stand, nor work, nor read, nor
take her meals, nor scarcely think with any consistency or clearness
of thought. We have mentioned hope--but it was the faintest and the
feeblest element in that chaos of distress and confusion which filled
and distracted her mind. She knew the state and condition of the country
too well--she knew the powerful influence of Mr. Folliard in his native
county--she knew what the consequences to Reilly must be of taking
away a Protestant heiress; the fact was there--plain, distin