“I agree with you, Ellen. There is, indeed, a most essential difference between flagitious crimes, such as theft, robbery, murder, and other dreadful outrages of that character, and those which may be termed offences arising from political opinions, which are often honestly entertained by individuals who, in all the relations of life, are sometimes the most exemplary members of society. But proceed, Ellen--what was the result?” Poor Ellen's eyes filled with tears, and she could scarcely summon composure enough to reply: “Worse than transportation or even death, my dear mistress; oh! far worse--guilt and crime. Yes: he that had gained my affections, and gave me his, joined the Red Rapparee and his gang, and became--a robber. I was goin' to say an outlaw, but he was that before he joined them, because he wouldn't submit to the laws--that is, wouldn't submit to be transported, or maybe hanged--or you know, ma'am, how little a thing it is that will either hang or transport any one of our unfortunate creed now.” “Alas! my dear Ellen, you forget that I am a living witness of it, and an afflicted one; but proceed. Have you ever seen your lover since?” “I did, ma'am, but at that time he mentioned nothing about his havin' joined the Rapparees. He came, he said, to bid me farewell, and to tell me that he wasn't worthy of me. 'The stain that's upon me,' said he, 'draws a gulf between you and me that neither of us can ever pass.' He could scarcely speak, but he dashed away the tears that came to his eyes--and--and--so he took his departure. Now, my dear young mistress, you see how well I can understand your case, and the good reason I have to feel for you, as I do, and ever will, until God in his mercy may set you both free from what you're sufferin'.” “But, are you certain, Ellen, that he actually has joined the Rapparees?” “Too sure, ma'am--too sure; my father had it in private from his own lips, for, as the poor boy said, he hadn't the courage himsell to tell me.” “But, Ellen,” asked Miss Folliard, “where had you an opportunity of seeing and becoming acquainted with this young man? You surely could not have known him, or conceived an attachment for him, previous to your coming to reside with us?” “Oh, no, ma'am,” replied Ellen; “it was at my father's I became acquainted with him, principally whenever I got lave to spend a Sunday at home. And now, my dear mistress,” she proceeded, sobbing, “I must go--your poor, faithful Ellen will never let you, nor the thought of your sorrows, out of her heart. All she can do now is to give you her prayers and her tears. Farewell! my darlin' mistress--may the blessing of God guard and prosper you both, and bring you to the happiness you deserve.” She wept bitterly as she concluded.