It was easy, however, to perceive that this agonizing restraint upon
the feelings of that loving wife could not last long, and that the task
which the poor woman was endeavoring to perform in deference to the
conventional opinions of society was beyond her strength. Hers, indeed,
was not a common nor an undivided sorrow; for, alas, she had not only
the loss of her kind husband and his ignominious death to distract her,
but the shame and degradation of their only daughter which occasioned
it; and what a trial was that for a single heart! From time to time a
deep back-drawing sob would proceed from her lips, and the eye was again
fixed upon the still and unconscious features of her husband. At length
the chord was touched, and the heart of the wife and mother could
restrain itself no longer. The children had been for some time
whispering together, evidently endeavoring to keep the youngest of them
still; but they found it impossible--he must go to awaken his daddy.
This was too much for them, and the poor things burst out into an
uncontrollable wail of sorrow. The conversation among the spectators was
immediately hushed; but the mother started to her feet, and turning to
the bed, bent over it, and raised a cry of agony such as I never heard
nor hope ever to hear again. She clapped her hands, and rocking herself
up and down over him, gave vent to her accumulated grief, which now
rushed like a torrent that had been dammed up and overcome its barriers,
from her heart.

"O Harry," said she in Irish--but we translate it--"O Harry, the husband
of the kind heart, the loving father, and the good man! O Harry, Harry,
and is it come to this with you and me and our childre! They may say
what they will, but you're not a murderer. It was your love for our
unfortunate Nannie that made you do what you did. O, what was the world
to you without her! Wasn't she the light of your eyes, and the sweet