"And I the happiest of women," responded Arabella, not audibly, but in spirit.
"Your father?" said De Courci. "Shall I see him?"
"It will not be well yet," replied the maiden, evincing a good deal of confusion. "My father is"—
"Is what?" asked the nobleman, slightly elevating his person.
"Is a man of some peculiar notions. Is, in fact, too rigidly American. He does not like"—
Arabella hesitated.
"Doesn't like foreigners. Ah! I comprehend," and the count shrugged his shoulders and looked dignified; that is, as dignified as a man whose face is covered with hair can look.
"I am sorry to say that he has unfounded prejudices against every thing not vulgarly American."
"He will not consent, then?"
"I fear not, Mr. De Courci."