"I doubt if there is any IN her though!" "She may be only amusing herself with us in this outlandish place! Mercy, I am sure, is quite different!" "I would trust her with anything, Alister. That girl would die for the man she loved!" "I would rather have her love, though we should never meet in this world, than the lands of my fathers!" "What will you do then?" "I will go to Mr. Palmer, and say to him: 'Give me your daughter. I am a poor man, but we shall have enough to live upon. I believe she will be happy.'" "I will answer for him: 'I have the greatest regard for you, Macruadh. You are a gentleman, and that you are poor is not of the slightest consequence; Mercy's dowry shall be worthy the lady of a chief!'--What then, Alister?" "Fathers that love money must be glad to get rid of their daughters without a. dowry!" "Yes, perhaps, when they are misers, or money is scarce, or wanted for something else. But when a poor man of position wanted to marry his daughter, a parent like Mr. Palmer would doubtless regard her dowry as a good investment. You must not think to escape that way, Alister! What would you answer him?" "I would say, 'My dear sir,'--I may say 'My dear sir,' may I not? there is something about the man I like!--'I do not want your money. I will not have your money. Give me your daughter, and my soul will bless you.'" "Suppose he should reply,' Do you think I am going to send my daughter from my house like a beggar? No, no, my boy! she must carry something with her! If beggars married beggars, the world would be full of beggars!'--what would you say then?" "I would tell him I had conscientious scruples about taking his money." "He would tell you you were a fool, and not to be trusted with a wife. 'Who ever heard such rubbish!' he would say. 'Scruples, indeed! You must get over them! What are they?'--What would you say then?" "If it came to that, I should have no choice but tell him I had insuperable objections to the way his fortune was made, and could not consent to share it." "He would protest himself insulted, and swear, if his money was not good enough for you, neither was his daughter. What then?" "I would appeal to Mercy." "She is too young. It would be sad to set one of her years at variance with her family. I almost think I would rather you ran away with her. It is a terrible thing to go into a house and destroy the peace of those relations which are at the root of all that is good in the world." "I know it! I know it! That is my trouble! I am not afraid of Mercy's courage, and I am sure she would hold out. I am certain nothing would make her marry the man she did not love. But to turn the house into a hell about her--I shrink from that!--Do you count it necessary to provide against every contingency before taking the first step?"