The squire had never been in the habit of being thus addressed by any of his servants; and the consequence was that the thing was new to him; so much so that he felt not only annoyed, but so much astounded, that he absolutely lost, for a brief period, the use of his speech.  He looked at her with astonishment—­then about the room—­then up at the ceiling, and at length spoke: 

“What the deuce does all this mean?  What are you driving at?  Prevent the marriage, you say?”

“If the man,” proceeded Connor, not even waiting to give him an answer—­“if the man—­had but one good point—­one good quality—­one virtue in his whole composition to redeem him from contempt and hatred—­if he had but one feature in his face only as handsome as the worst you could find in the devil’s—­yes, if he had but one good thought, or one good feature in either his soul or body, why—­vile as it would be—­and barbarous as it would be—­and shameful and cruel as it would be—­still, it would have the one good thought, and the one good feature to justify it.  But here, in this deep and wretched villain, there is nothing but one mass of vice and crime and deformity; all that the eye can ses, or the heart discover, in his soul or body, is as black, odious, and repulsive as could be conceived of the worst imp of perdition.  And this is the man—­the persecutor—­the miser—­the debauchee—­the hypocrite—­the murderer, and the coward, that you are going to join your good—­virtuous—­spotless—­and beautiful daughter to!  Oh, shame upon you, you heartless old man; don’t dare to say, or pretend, that you love her as a father ought, when you would sacrifice her to so base and damnable a villain as that.  And again, and what is more, I tell you not to prosecute Reilly; for, as sure as the Lord above is in heaven, your daughter is lost, and you’ll not only curse Whitecraft, but the day and hour in which you were born—­black and hopeless will be your doom if you do.  And now, sir, I have done; I felt it to be my duty to tell you this, and to warn you against what I know will happen unless you go back upon the steps you have taken.”

She then courtesied to him respectfully, and left the room in a burst of grief which seized her when she had concluded.

Ellen Connor was a girl by no means deficient in education—­thanks to the care and kindness of the Cooleen Bawn, who had herself instructed her.  ’Tis true, she had in ordinary and familiar conversation a touch of the brogue; but, when excited, or holding converse with respectable persons, her language was such as would have done no discredit to many persons in a much higher rank of life.

After she had left the room, Folliard looked towards the door by which she had taken her exit, as if he had her still in his vision.  He paused—­he meditated—­he walked about, and seemed taken thoroughly aback.