“Who might, perhaps,” observed Randal—not truly, if he referred to Madame di Negra—“who might, perhaps, speak very little English?”
“Lord ha’ mercy!”
“And a Roman Catholic—”
“Worshiping idols, and roasting people who don’t worship them.”
“Signior Riccabocca is not so bad as that.”
“Rickeybockey! Well, if it was his daughter! But not speak English! and not go to the parish church! By George! if Frank thought of such a thing, I’d cut him off with a shilling. Don’t talk to me, sir; I would. I’m a mild man, and an easy man; but when I say a thing, I say it, Mr. Leslie. Oh, but it is a jest—you are laughing at me. There’s no such painted good-for-nothing creature in Frank’s eye, eh?”
“Indeed, sir, if ever I find there is, I will give you notice in time. At present I was only trying to ascertain what you wished for a daughter in-law. You said you had no prejudice.”
“No more I have—not a bit of it.”
“You don’t like a foreigner and a Catholic?”
“Who the devil would?”