"What 'but' can be here?" interjected the old man. "Surely you do not
mean to doubt whether _he_ would consent?"

"And yet that is just my doubt," she replied, as if she felt humiliated
by the admission.

"Doubt!" cried the father, in rising wrath; "doubt, doubt if a beggar
would consent to be made rich by marrying _you_! Why, Rachel, dear, if
the fellow were to breathe a sigh of hesitation, he would deserve to be
a beggar with more holes than wholes in his gabardine, and too poor even
to possess a wallet to carry his bones and crumbs. Have you any reason
for your strange statement?"

"No," replied the girl, with a sigh. "It is only my heart that speaks."

"And the heart never lies," said he sharply. "But I shall see," he
muttered to himself, "whether a certain tongue in a certain head shall
speak in the same way."

"But would it not bring me down," said she, "were he to think that he
was forced by a promise?"

"A promise!" rejoined he; "why, so it would, my dear. I see you are
right." But then he thought he could sound him without putting any
obligation upon him. "And a pretty obligation it would be," he
continued, "for a young fellow cut off with a shilling to bind himself
to consent to be the acceptor of two such gifts as a fine girl and a
fortune."