Mr. M. struck by these words fell at her feet, conjured her not to conceal from him the state of her lady’s affections, confessed his own secret passion, in terms as ardent as it was felt. His recent sufferings and suspicions, and the present distracted state of his mind, his tears, his entreaties, his wildly energetic supplications, his wretched but interesting appearance, and above all the adoration he professed for the object of her own tenderest affection, finally vanquished the small portion of prudence and reserve interwoven in the unguarded character of the simple and affectionate old Irish woman, and she at last confessed, that the day after his departure from the castle of Inismore, Glorvina was seized with a fever, in which, after the first day, she became delirious; that during the night, as the nurse sat by her, she awakened from a deep sleep and began to speak much of Mr. Mortimer, whom she called her _friend_, her _preceptor_, and her _lover_; talked wildly of her having been _united to him by God in the vale of Inismore_, and drew from her bosom a sprig of withered myrtle, which, she said, had been a bridal gift from her beloved, and that she often pressed it to her lips and smiled, and began to sing an air which, she said, was dear to him; until at last she burst into tears, and wept herself to sleep again. “When she recovered,” continued the nurse, “which, owing to her youth and fine constitution, she did in a few days, I mentioned to her some of these sayings, at which she changed colour, and begged that as I valued her happiness I would bury all I had heard in my own breast; and above all bid me not mention your name, as it was now her duty to forget you; and last night I heard her consent to become the wife of the good gentleman; but poor child it is all one, for she will die of a broken heart. I see plainly she will not long survive her father, nor will ever love any but you!” At these words the old woman burst into a passion of tears, while Mr. M-------- catching her in his arms, exclaimed, “I owe you my life, a thousand times more than my life;” and throwing his purse into her lap, flew to the inn, where having obtained a hack horse, given his own in care to the master, and taken a little refreshment which his exhausted frame, long fasting, and extraordinary fatigue required, he again set out for the Lodge. His sole object was to obtain an interview with Glorvina, and on the result of that interview to form his future determination.