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When the time came the heart of Falconer was indeed wounded, but he felt called upon as a husband to support his wife, who, although willing to return to her native country under circumstances of diminished importance, and desirous of embracing any situation which secured his society, could not witness the bitter sorrow of her Irish peasantry and hear the lamentations of her servants, without acute suffering. Rich and poor, old and young, poured in upon them with that genuine fulness of sympathy, that mixed language of grief, reproach and intreaty, which spoke an interest in their future welfare, a remembrance of past favours, and indignation towards their supposed enemies, indicating all the intense feelings that agitate the genuine Irishman, and which the present circle felt they had the more right to express, because Mr. Falconer had been destined from his birth to live and die amongst them by his still lamented father.

Yet a sense of what was due to "his honour," in what they deemed "his day of sorrow," and still more their deep respect for his gentle lady, somewhat restrained their intrusion, but whilst the aged people hung round their horses' necks, and the young ones sought, by rendering themselves useful, to show the last fond services of hearts which could only endure their feelings by expressing them through some medium; many gathered round the child, on whom they gazed with an admiration that was almost idolatry, and deplored, as if she were a victim appointed to sacrifice.