His mother would have been glad to see him return from his call
somewhat dejected; he entered so radiant and handsome, that her
heart sank within her. Was she actually on the point of being allied
through the child of her bosom to a distiller and brewer--a man who
had grown rich on the ruin of thousands of his fellow countrymen? To
what depths might not the most ancient family sink! For any poverty,
she said to herself, she was prepared--but how was she to endure
disgrace! Alas for the clan, whose history was about to
cease--smothered in the defiling garment of ill-gotten wealth!
Miserable, humiliating close to ancient story! She had no doubt as
to her son's intention, although he had said nothing; she KNEW that
his refusal of dower would be his plea in justification; but would
that deliver them from the degrading approval of the world? How
many, if they ever heard of it, would believe that the poor,
high-souled Macruadh declined to receive a single hundred from his
father-in-law's affluence! That he took his daughter poor as she was
born--his one stipulation that she should be clean from her
father's mud! For one to whom there would even be a chance of
stating the truth of the matter, a hundred would say, "That's your
plan! The only salvation for your shattered houses! Point them up
well with the bird-lime of the brewer, the quack, or the
money-lender, and they'll last till doom'sday!"

Thus bitterly spoke the mother. She brooded and scorned, raged
inwardly, and took to herself dishonour, until evidently she was
wasting. The chief's heart was troubled; could it be that she
doubted his strength to resist temptation? He must make haste and
have the whole thing settled! And first of all speak definitely to
Mercy on the matter!