father, "you will never have my
consent to that marriage, nor my blessin'."

"Art," said she, "not one word. Here, in the presence of my father and
mother, and in the presence of God himself, I say I will be your wife,
and only yours."

"And," said her father, "see whether a blessin' will attend a marriage
where a child goes against the will of her parents."

"I'm of age now to think and act for myself, father; an' you know this
is the first thing I ever disobeyed you in, an' I hope it 'ill be the
last. Am I goin' to marry one that's discreditable to have connected
with our family? So far from that, it is the credit that is comin' to
us. Is a respectable young man, without spot or stain on his name, with
the good-will of all that know him, and a good trade--is such a person,
father, so very high above us? Is one who has the blood of the great
Fermanagh Maguires in his veins not good enough for your daughter,
because you happen to have a few bits of metal that he has not? Father,
you will give us your consent an' your blessin' too; but remember that
whether you do, or whether you don't, I'll not break my vow; I'll marry
him."

"Margaret," said the father, in a calm, collected voice, "put both
consent and blessin' out of the question; you will never have either
from me."

"Ho _dher a Ihora heena_," exclaimed the mother, "I'm the boy for one
that will see the buckle crossed against them, or I'd die every day
this twelve months upon the top and tail o' Knockmany, through wind an'
weather. You darlin' scoundrel," she proceeded, addressing Art, in what
she intended to be violent abuse--"God condemn your sowl to happiness,
is I or am my husband to be whillebelewin' on your loaf? Eh, answer us
that, if you're not able, like a man, as you is?"

Margaret, whose humor and sense of the ludicrous were exceedingly
strong, having seldom heard her mother so excited before, gave one arch
look at Art, who, on the contrary, felt perfectly confounded at the
woman's language, and in that look there was a kind of humorous entreaty
that he would depart. She nodded towards the door, and Art, having shook
hands with her, said--

"Good-by, Jemmy Murray, I hope you'll change your mind still; your
daughter never could got any one that loves her as I do, or that could
treat her with more tendherness and affection."

"Be off, you darlin' vagabone," said Mrs. Murray, "the heavens be your
bed, you villain, why don't you stay where you is, a