n," she said, pointing
to Art. She gave three or four loud hysterical sobs, and then stood
calm, looking not upon her father, but upon her lover; as much as to
say, Is this love, or is it not?

Her mother, who was a quiet, inoffensive creature, without any principle
or opinion whatsoever at variance with those of her husband, rose upon
hearing this announcement; but so ambiguous were her motions, that
we question whether the most sagacious prophet of all antiquity could
anticipate from them the slightest possible clue to her opinion. The
husband, in fact, had not yet spoken, and until he had, the poor woman
did not know her own mind. Under any circumstances, it was difficult
exactly to comprehend her meaning. In fact, she could not speak three
words of common English, having probably never made the experiment a
dozen times in her life. Murray was struck for some time mute.

"And is this the young man," said he, at length, "that has been the
mains of preventin' you from being so well married often and often
before now?"

"No, indeed, father," she replied, "he was not the occasion of that; but
I was. I am betrothed to him, as he is to me, for five years."

"And," said her father, "my consent to that marriage you will never
have; if you marry him, marry him, but you will marry him without my
blessin'."

"Jemmy Murray," said Art, whose pride of family was fast rising, "who am
I, and who are you?"

Margaret put her hand to his mouth, and said in a low voice--

"Art, if you love me, leave it to my management."

"Ho, Jemmy," said the mother, addressing her husband, "only put
your ears to this! _Ho, dher manim_, this is that skamin' piece of
_feasthealagh_ (* nonesense) they call _grah_ (*love). Ho, by my
sowl, it shows what moseys they is to think that--what's this you call
it?--low-lov-loaf, or whatsomever the devil it is, has to do wid makin'
a young couple man and wife. Didn't I hate the ground you stud on when
I was married upon you? but I had the _airighid_. Ho, faix, I had the
shiners."

"Divil a word o' lie in that, Madjey, asthore. You had the money, an'
I got it, and wern't we as happy, or ten times happier, than if we had
married for love?"

"To be sartin we am; an' isn't we more unhappier now, nor if we had got
married for loaf, glory be to godness!"

"Father," said Margaret, anxious to put an end to this ludicrous debate,
"this is the only man I will ever marry."

"And by Him that made me," said her