him, and pressed it to his lips.

"Dearest Edith, where have you been so long?"

"With my uncle, Michael. I have my uncle's 'ultimatum,' as he calls it."

"What is it, Edith?"

"Ah! how shall I tell you without offense? But, dearest Michael you will
not mind--you will forgive an old man's childish prejudices, especially
when you know they are not personal--but circumstantial, national,
bigoted."

"Well, Edith! well?"

"Michael, he says--he says that I may give you my hand--"

"Said he so! Bless that fair hand, and bless him who bestows it!" he
exclaimed, clasping her fingers and pressing them to his lips.

"Yes, Michael, but--"

"But what! there is no but; he permits you to give me your hand; there
is then no but--'a jailer to bring forth some monstrous malefactor.'"

"Yet listen! You know I was to have been his heiress!"

"No, indeed I did not know it! never heard it! never suspected it! never
even thought of it! How did I know but that he had sons and daughters,
or nephews away at school!"