"And what, now, might that be?"—the tone was of veiled sarcasm.
"She'll have all the money that I settle on her to dale wid as she likes—that is, the intherest iv it—as long as she lives; an' I'm to have the Cliff Fields that is her's, as me own to do what I like wid, an' that them an' all in them belongs to me." Joyce paused a moment before answering:—
"Is that all ye have to say?" Murdock seemed nonplussed, but after a slight pause he answered:—
"Yis!"
"An' ye want me answer?"
"Iv coorse!"
"Thin, Murtagh Murdock, I'd like to ask ye for why me daughter would marry you or the like of you? Is it because that yer beauty 'd take a young girl's fancy—you that's known as the likest thing to a divil in these parts! Or is it because of yer kind nature? You that tried to ruin her own father, and that drove both her and him out of the home she was born in, and where her poor mother died! Is it because yer characther is respicted in the counthry wheriver yer name is known?" Here Murdock interrupted him:—
"I tould ye it's a warrum man I am"—he spoke decisively, as if his words were final—"an' I can, an' will, settle a fortin on her." Joyce answered slowly and with infinite scorn:—
"Thank ye, Mr. Murtagh Murdock, but me daughter is not for sale!"
