ut still she would talk to no one. Mrs.
McKeon endeavoured more than once to lead her to the subject which
she knew must be nearest her heart, thinking that if she could be got
to speak of it, she would be relieved; but in vain. In vain she tried
to interest her in her brother's fate--in vain she tried to make her
understand that Thady's safety--that his acquittal would, in a great
degree, depend on her being able to prove, at the trial, that at the
time when the occurrence took place, she was herself insensible.
She shuddered violently at the idea of being again questioned, and
declared with sobs that she should die if she were again dragged to
that horrid place. When Mrs. McKeon asked her if she would not make
a struggle to save her brother's life, she remained mute. It was
evident that it was for her lover that she was still grieving, and
that it was not the danger or ignominy of Thady's position that
afflicted her.

Mrs. McKeon, however, conceived it to be her duty to persevere with
her--and, at last, told her how wrong it was of her to give way to
a grief, which was in its first stage respected. Feemy answered
her only with tears; and on the next morning told her that she had
determined to return to Ballycloran, as she thought she would be
better there, at home with her father.

To this, however, Mrs. McKeon would not consent, and Feemy was told
that the doctor had forbidden her to be moved. She was, therefore,
obliged to remain satisfied for the present, as she had no means
of escaping from Drumsna; but she soon became more sullen than
ever--and, at last, almost refused to speak to any one.

Things went on in this way till about the middle of March. Feemy
constantly requested to be allowed to go home, which request was as
constantly refused; when different circumstances acting together gave
rise to a dreadful suspicion in Mrs. McKeon's mind. She began to
fear that Ussher, before his death, had accomplished the poor girl's
ruin, and that she was now in the family way. For some few days she
was determined to reject the idea, and endeavoured to make herself
believe that she was mistaken; but the more close her observations
were, the more certain she became that her suspicions were well
founded. She was much distressed as to what she should do. Her first
and most natural feelings were those of anger against Feemy, and
of dismay at the situation into which her own and her husband's
good nature had brought herself a