“You shall never marry Benjamin Rice,” said Nashon.
“And whom shall I marry then?” said the unhappy girl, who had made her communication to him in tears—“a ruined spendthrift, who has borrowed two thousand from my father, and thereby placed himself and his property in the power of one who, as I told you, had originally in his view the seizure of an old part of his estate? Where is all your wisdom new? Alas! how foolish I have been to put any faith in the professions of one who is incapable of avoiding a danger pointed out to his open eyes! To marry Benjamin Rice is misery, if not death—to marry you is wretchedness and shame, besides rebellion against the commands of my parents.”
“Calm yersel, Dione,” said Nashon. “I shall go instantly and ask your father’s consent to our marriage.”
“If an objection existed formerly to your procuring that consent,” replied Dione, still weeping, “think ye that is removed by your being now in poverty, and my father’s debtor?”
“We’ll lat alane thae subtle questions, my Dione,” said Nashon, “an try our mettle. Your father is my friend. Do we no ride thegither, drink thegither, and laugh thegither? Why should he refuse me his dochter, if he gives me his confidence? He never rides, drinks, or laughs wi’ Benjamin Rice. I’ll awa to him, an’ try him. A faint heart never wan sae fair a lady as Dione Græme.”
Nashon accordingly opened the subject to Eyrymount.
“I hae been thinkin o’ takin a wife,” he began, “to see an’ reclaim me, an’ keep me frae ruin, and Outfieldhaugh frae the hammer.”
“Whom have you in contemplation?” said Eyrymount, fearfully apprehensive that he was after a rich heiress whose fortune would relieve him and his property from difficulties.
“I hae been thinking o’ twa or three,” replied Nashon. “Conybarns’ dochter, ye ken, will be a rich cratur, though she’s neither a lily o’ the valley nor a rose o’ Sharon.”
“She has the king’s evil,” rejoined Eyrymount, whose objection to this match was apparent.