"Marry your daughter, honest woman!" said I, "on the faith of a
Christian, I never saw your daughter; and you may rest assured in
this, that I will neither marry you nor her. Do you consider how
short a time I have been in this place? How much that time has
been occupied? And how there was even a possibility that I could
have accomplished such villainies?"
"And how long does your Christian reverence suppose you have
remained in this place since the late laird's death?" said she.
"That is too well known to need recapitulation," said I. "Only a
very few days, though I cannot at present specify the exact
number; perhaps from thirty to forty, or so. But in all that time,
certes, I have never seen either you or any of your two daughters
that you talk of. You must be quite sensible of that."
My friend shook his head three times during this short sentence,
while the woman held up her hands in amazement and disgust,
exclaiming: "There goes the self-righteous one! There goes the
consecrated youth, who cannot err! You, sir, know, and the world
shall know, of the faith that is in this most just, devout, and
religious miscreant! Can you deny that you have already been in
this place four months and seven days? Or that in that time you
have been forbid my house twenty times? Or that you have
persevered in your endeavours to effect the basest and most
ungenerous of purposes? Or that you have attained them?
Hypocrite and deceiver as you are! Yes, sir; I say, dare you deny
that you have attained your vile, selfish, and degrading purposes
towards a young, innocent, and unsuspecting creature, and
thereby ruined a poor widow's only hope in this world? No, you
cannot look in my face, and deny aught of this.
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