Old McB. Son—ay—that she thinks too good for you—for you, Honor; you, the Lily of Lismore—that might command the pride of the country. Oh! Honor dear, don’t be lessening yourself; but be a proud girl, as you ought, and my own Honor.
Honor. Oh, when you speak so kind!
Old McB. And I beg your pardon, if I said a cross word; for I know you’ll never think of him more, and no need to lave home at all for his sake. It would be a shame in the country, and what would Mrs. Carver herself think?
Honor. She thinks well of it, then.
Old McB. Then whatever she thinks, she sha’n’t have my child from me! tho’ she’s a very good lady, and a very kind lady, too. But see now, Honor—have done with love, for it’s all foolishness; and when you come to be as ould as I am, you’ll think so too. The shadows goes all one way, till the middle of the day, and when that is past, then all the t’other way; and so it is with love, in life—stay till the sun is going down with you.
Honor. Then it would be too late to be thinking of love.
Old McB. And too airly now, and there’s no good time, for it’s all folly. I’ll ax you, will love set the potatoes?—will love make the rent?—or will love give you a jaunting car?—as to my knowledge, another of your bachelors would.
Honor. Oh, don’t name him, father.
Old McB. Why not—when it’s his name that would make a lady of you, and there’d be a rise in life, and an honour to your family?
Honor. Recollect it was he that would have dishonoured my family, in me, if he could.