“Dora, I know it is the custom on some occasions for ladies never to tell the truth--therefore I shall not ask any question that I think will put your truth to the test. I shall tell you my mind, and leave you to judge for yourself. Take as long or as short a time to know your own mind as you please--only know it clearly, and send me your answer by your aunt. All I beg is, that when the answer shall be delivered to me, this young man may be by. Don’t interrupt me, Dora--I have a high opinion of him,” said he, keeping his eye upon Dora’s face. “I have a great esteem, affection, love for him:” he pronounced the words deliberately, that he might see the effect on Dora; but her countenance was as undecided as her mind--no judgment could be formed from its changes. “I wish Harry Ormond,” continued he, “to know all my conduct: he knows that, long ago, I made a foolish promise to give my daughter to a man I knew nothing about.” Mademoiselle was going to interrupt, but Cornelius O’Shane silenced her. “Mademoiselle--sister O’Faley, I will do the best I can to repair that folly--and to leave you at liberty, Dora, to follow the choice of your heart.” He paused, and again studied her countenance, which was agitated. “Her choice is your choice--her father’s choice is always the choice of the good daughter,” said Mademoiselle. “I believe she is a good daughter, and that is the particular reason I am determined to be as good a father as I can to her.” Dora wept in silence--and Mademoiselle, a good deal alarmed, wanted to remove Harry Ormond out of the young lady’s sight: she requested him to go to her apartment for a smelling-bottle for her niece. “No, no,” said King Corny, “go yourself, sister O’Faley, if you like it, but I’ll not let Harry Ormond stir--he is my witness present. Dora is not fainting--if you would only let her alone, she would do well. Dora, listen to me: if you don’t really prefer this Black Connal for a husband to all other men, as you are to swear at the altar you do, if you marry him--” Dora was strongly affected by the solemn manner of her father’s appeal to her. “If,” continued her father, “you are not quite clear, my dear child, that you prefer him to other men, do not marry him. I have a notion I can bring you off without breaking my word: listen. I would willingly give half my fortune to secure your happiness, my darling. If I do not mistake him, Mr. Connal would, for a less sum, give me back my promise, and give you up altogether, my dear Dora.” Dora’s tears stopped, Mademoiselle’s exclamations poured forth, and they both declared they were certain that Mr. Connal would not, for any thing upon earth that could be offered to him, give up the match.