“Thank you.”
“My lord, you mistake. I will not promise. Nay, I will interfere. What to do, I do not now know; but I will save the girl if I can.”
“And ruin an ancient family! You think nothing of that!”
“Its honour, my lord, will be best preserved in that of the girl.”
“Damn you! will you preach to me?”
Notwithstanding his fierce words, Donal could not help seeing or imagining an almost suppliant look in his eye.
“You must do as I tell you in my house,” he went on, “or you will soon see the outside of it. Come: marry the girl yourself—she is deuced pretty—and I will give you five hundred pounds for your wedding journey.—Poor Davie!”
“Your lordship insults me.”
“Then, damn you! be off to your lessons, and take your insolent face out of my sight.”
“If I remain in your house, my lord, it is for Davie’s sake.”