y
daughter, yet you lost no money, an' you're not mad!"
"Divil a morsel o' me is mad--but you'll be so if you refuse to let this
match go an."
"Out wid him--_a shan roghara_," shouted Mrs. O'Brien, in a state of
most dignified offence; "_Damho orth_, you ould knave! is it the son of
a miser that has fleeced an' robbed the whole counthry side that we 'ud
let our daughther, that resaved the finish to her edication in a Dubling
boardin' school, marry wid?--_Vic na hoiah_ this day!"
"You had no sich scruple yourself, ma'am," replied the bitter usurer,
"when you bounced at the son of the ould Bodagh Buie, an' every one
knows what he was."
"He!" said the good woman; "an' is it runnin' up comparishments betuxt
yourself an' him you are afther? Why, Saint Peter wouldn't thrive on
your money, you nager."
"Maybe Saint Pethur thruv on worse--but havn't you thruv as well on the
Bodagh's, as if it had been honestly come by? I defy you an' the world
both--to say that ever I tuck a penny from any one, more than my right.
Lay that to the mimory of the ould Bodagh, an' see if it'll fit. It's no
light guinea, any how."
Had Fardorougha been a man of ordinary standing and character in the
country, from whom an insult could be taken, he would no doubt have
been by a very summary process expelled the parlor. The history of his
querulous and irascible temper, however, was so well known, and his
offensive eccentricity of manner a matter of such established fact, that
the father and son, on glancing at each other, were seized with the same
spirit, and both gave way to an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Is it a laughin' stock you're makin' of' it?" said Mrs. O'Brien, highly
indignant.
"Faith, achora, it may be no laughin' stock afther all," replied the
Bodagh.
"I think, mother," observed John, "that you and my father had better
treat the matter with more seriousness. Connor O'Donovan is a young man
not to be despised by any person at all near his own class of life who
regards the peace and welfare of a daughter. His character stands very
high; indeed, in every way unimpeachable."
The bitter scowl which had sat upon the small dark features of
Fardorougha, when replying to the last attack of Mrs. O'Brien, passed
away as John spoke. The old man turned hastily around, and, surveying
the eulogist of his son, said,
"God bless you, asthore, for thim words! and they're thrue--thrue as the
gospel, arrah what are you both so prou
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