"Don't go to deny it, ma'am. He has been writing to every one--the
Bishop, Father Dan, myself even. Denouncing the marriage if you plaze."
My father, in his great excitement, was breaking with withering scorn
into his native speech.
"Aw yes, though, denouncing and damning it, they're telling me! Mighty
neighbourly of him, I'm sure! Just a neighbour lad without a penny at
his back to take all that throuble! If I had known he felt like that
about it I might have axed his consent! The imperence, though! The
imperence of sin! A father has no rights, it seems! A daughter is a
separate being, and all to that! Well, well! Amazing thick, isn't it?"
He was walking up and down the room with his heavy tread, making the
floor shake.
"Then that woman in Rome--I wouldn't trust but she has been putting
notions into your head, too. All the new-fangled fooleries, I'll go
bail. Women and men equal, not a ha'p'orth of difference between them!
The blatherskites!"
I was silenced, and I must have covered my face and cried, for after a
while my father softened, and touching my shoulder he asked me if a man
of sixty-five was not likely to know better than a girl of nineteen what
was good for her, and whether I supposed he had not satisfied himself
that this marriage was a good thing for me and for him and for
everybody.
"Do you think I'm not doing my best for you, gel--my very best?"