ealth suffered so severely that her life was at one time
feared for; but that fate should have ever thrown me into intimacy with
those upon whom this grievous injury was inflicted, and by whom death
and mourning were brought upon my house, was a sad and overwhelming
affliction that rendered me stunned and speechless. How came it then,
thought I, that my mother never recognised the name of her brother's
antagonist when speaking of Miss Bellew in her letter to me? Before I
had time to revolve this doubt in my mind Mrs. Rooney had explained it.

'And this was the beginning of all his misfortunes. The friends of the
poor young man were people of great influence, and set every engine to
work to ruin Sir Simon, or, as he then was, Mr. Simon Barrington. At
last they got him outlawed; and it was only the very year he came to the
title and estates of his uncle that the outlawry was taken off, and
he was once more enabled to return to Ireland. However, they had their
revenge if they wished for it; for what between recklessness and bad
company, he took to gambling when abroad, contracted immense debts, and
came into his fortune little better than a beggar. Since then the world
has seen little of him, and indeed he owes it but little favour. Under
Pole's management the property is now rapidly improving; but the old man
cares little for this, and all I believe he wishes for is to have health
enough to go over to the Continent and place his daughter in a convent
before he dies.'

Little did she guess how every word sank deep into my heart. Every
sentence of the past was throwing its shadow over all my future, and the
utter wreck of my hopes seemed now inevitable.

While thus I sat brooding over my gloomiest thoughts, Mrs. Rooney,
evidently affected by the subject, maintained a perfect silence. At
last, however, she seemed to have summed up the whole case in her mind,
as turning to me confidentially, with her hand pressed upon my arm, she
added in a true moralising cadence, very different from that she had
employed when her feelings were really engaged--

'And that's what always comes of it when a gallant, gay Lutherian gets
admission into a family.'

Shall I confess, that, notwithstanding the deep sorrow of my heart,
I could scarce repress an outbreak of laughter at these words! We now
chatted away on a variety of subjects, till the concourse of people
pressing onwards to the town, the more thickly populated country, and
the dis