the deadly aim of an assassin--from being murdered by O'Donnel, the Red
Rapparee, in the lonely moors."

Reilly, from the moment the far-famed _Cooleen Dawn_ entered the room,
heard not a syllable the old man had said. He was absorbed, entranced,
struck with a sensation of wonder, surprise, agitation, joy, and
confusion, all nearly at the same moment. Such a blaze of beauty,
such elegance of person, such tenderness and feeling as chastened
the radiance of her countenance into something that might be termed
absolutely divine; such symmetry of form; such harmony of motion; such
a seraphic being in the shape of woman, he had, in fact, never seen or
dreamt of. She seemed as if surrounded by an atmosphere of light, of
dignity, of goodness, of grace; but that which, above all, smote
him, heart on, the moment was the spirit of tenderness and profound
sensibility which seemed to predominate in her whole being. Why did his
manly and intrepid heart palpitate? Why did such a strange confusion
seize upon him? Why did the few words which she uttered in her father's
arms fill his ears with a melody that charmed him out of his strength?
Alas! is it necessary to ask? To those who do not understand this
mystery, no explanation could be of any avail; and to those who do, none
is necessary.

[Illustration: PAGE 18--Looked with her dark eyes upon Reilly]

After her father had spoken, she raised herself from his arms, and
assuming her full height--and she was tall--looked for a moment with
her dark, deep, and terrible eyes upon Reilly, who in the meantime felt
rapt, spell-bound, and stood, whilst his looks were riveted upon these
irresistible orbs, as if he had been attracted by the influence of some
delightful but supernatural power, under which he felt himself helpless.