ing the idea that your son could marry a foreigner
and a Roman Catholic, did not appear to consider such objections
insuperable, if Frank's happiness were really at stake."

Here the poor squire gave way to a burst of passion, that involved
in one tempest Frank, Randal, Harry herself, and the whole race of
foreigners, Roman Catholics, and women. While the squire was still
incapable of hearing reason, the parson, taking aside Randal, convinced
himself that the whole affair, so far as Randal was concerned, had its
origin in a very natural mistake; and that while that young gentleman
had been hinting at Beatrice, Mrs. Hazeldean had been thinking of
Violante. With considerable difficulty he succeeded in conveying this
explanation to the squire, and somewhat appeasing his wrath against
Randal. And the Dissimulator, seizing his occasion, then expressed so
much grief and astonishment at learning that matters had gone as far as
the parson informed him,--that Frank had actually proposed to Beatrice,
been accepted, and engaged himself, before even communicating with his
father; he declared so earnestly, that he could never conjecture such
evil, that he had had Frank's positive promise to take no step without
the sanction of his parents; he professed such sympathy with the
squire's wounded feelings, and such regret at Frank's involvement, that
Mr. Hazeldean at last yielded up his honest heart to his consoler,
and griping Randal's hand, said, "Well, well, I wronged you; beg your
pardon. What now is to be done?"

"Why, you cannot consent to this marriage,--impossible!" replied Randal;
"and we must hope, therefore, to influence Frank by his sense of duty."

"That's it," said the squire; "for I'll not give way. Pretty pass things
have come to, indeed! A widow, too, I hear. Artful jade! thought, no
doubt, to catch a Hazeldean of Hazeldean. My estates go to an outlandish
Papistical set of mongrel brats! No, no, never!"

"But," said the parson, mildly, "perhaps we may be unjustly prejudiced
against this lady. We should have consented to Violante; why not to her?
She is of good family?"

"Certainly," said Randal.

"And good character?"

Randal shook his head, and sighed. The squire caught him roughly by the
arm--"Answer the parson!" cried he, vehemently.

"Indeed, sir, I cannot speak disrespectfully of the character of a
woman,--who may, too, become Frank's wife; and the world is ill-natured
and not to be believed. But you can ju