you shall have that
pleasure."

"It will be with pain, sir, that I shall force myself into that person's
society; however, to oblige you, I shall do it."

"Consider, pray consider, Sir Robert," replied the old squire, all his
pride of family glowing strong within him, "just consider that my table,
sir, and my countenance, sir, and my sense of gratitude, sir, are a
sufficient guarantee to the worth and respectability of any one whom I
may ask to my house. And, Sir Robert, in addition to that, just reflect
that I ask him to meet my daughter, and, if I don't mistake, I think I
love, honor, and respect her nearly as much as I do you. Will you come
then, or will you not?"

"Unquestionably, sir, I shall do myself the honor."

"Very well," replied the old squire, clearing up at once--undergoing, in
fact, one of those rapid and unaccountable changes which constituted
so prominent a portion of his character. "Very well, Bobby; good-by, my
boy; I am not angry with you; shake hands, and curse Popery."

Until the morning of the day on which the two rivals were to meet, Miss
Folliard began to entertain a dreadful apprehension that the fright into
which the Red Rapparee had thrown her father was likely to terminate,
ere long, in insanity. The man at best was eccentric, and full of the
most unaccountable changes of temper and purpose, hot, passionate,
vindictive, generous, implacable, and benevolent. What he had seldom
been accustomed to do, he commenced soliloquizing aloud, and talking to
himself in such broken hints and dark mysterious allusions, drawing from
unknown premises such odd and ludicrous inferences; at one time brushing
himself up in Scripture; at another moment questioning his daughter
about her opinion on Popery--sometimes dealing about political and
religious allusions with great sarcasm, in which he was a master when he
wished, and sometimes with considerable humor of illustration, so far,
at least, as he could be understood.

"Confound these Jesuits," said he; "I wish they were scourged out of
Europe. Every man of them is sure to put his finger in the pie and then
into his mouth to taste what it's like; not so the parsons--Hallo! where
am I? Take care, old Folliard; take care, you old dog; what have you to
say in favor of these same parsons--lazy, negligent fellows, who snore
and slumber, feed well, clothe well, and think first of number one?
Egad, I'm in a mess between them. One makes a slave of you, and the