The moment the three men were alone together, The Desmond stood up to his great height.
"I'm obliged to you, John Mansfield," he said, "for looking after my granddaughter. You have acted in a very fair way towards her, I'm thinking; but I want her now for the remainder of my days. You are willing to give her up, eh, John Mansfield?"
"I must give her up," said Mansfield. "I have no say in the matter, alas! She is all the world to me, but I can't keep her against her will and against what is holy and right."
"Don't talk to me of holiness, Mansfield," interrupted The Desmond. "What's settled about my granddaughter? Sit down, man, if you must, you look a bit white and shaky."
"Perhaps, Mansfield, you had best let me speak," said Fergus. "He has had a very hard time, has Mansfield, father, and has behaved like a perfect saint. I'll tell the story and he'll listen and you'll have to agree, for there's no other way out."
"Ah, to be sure, Fergus, you always had the tongue," said The Desmond. "It was havin' ye trained at old Trinity. Well, go ahead, what's settled?"
"You know, of course, that my sister Priscilla married John Mansfield."
"Married John Mansfield," repeated the old man, "one of the Desmonds married you?"
"She did, sir, and she's a good woman. She's real aunt to little Margot."