"I ask for the name of the person, and you confuse me with a torrent of praise," exclaimed the old man, testily.
"Here he is to speak for himself," I said, leading Smith up. "This is the man who desires to become your son-in-law."
"Are you serious, Smith?" the stockman asked, with a suspicious glance of his keen, gray eye.
"I assure you that I am, and that I will labor with all my might to make your child a happy wife."
Smith bore the scrutiny without flinching, although his words were uttered by syllables.
"But my child is poor; I can give her neither wealth, nor a proud, untarnished name. I have been a sentenced convict."
"And what have I been?" asked Smith, with a tremulous voice, his head falling upon his breast.
"Let us not refer to such matters," cried the stockman, briskly, throwing off, with an effort, the constraint which the conversation had given him. "I ask you if you are willing to marry my daughter, poor as she is, and poor as you know me to be?"
The stockman's gray eyes were fixed upon the face of the suitor as though reading his most secret thoughts.
"I have already answered that question, and told you that I was willing and anxious to have the ceremony performed without delay. You shall live with us, and take care of the house while I am at the mines. You shall never want as long as I possess a shilling," answered Smith, heartily. "Do those words come from your heart?" asked the old convict, eagerly.