Here are two hundred bright golden angels; give thy blessing, as I say, and I will count them out to thee as thy daughter's dower.

Give not thy blessing, and she shall be married all the same, but not so much as a cracked farthing shall cross thy palm.

Choose." Then Edward looked upon the ground with bent brows, turning the matter over and over in his mind; but he was a shrewd man and one, withal, that made the best use of a cracked pipkin; so at last he looked up and said, but in no joyous tone, "If the wench will go her own gait, let her go.

I had thought to make a lady of her; yet if she chooses to be what she is like to be, I have nought to do with her henceforth.

Ne'ertheless I will give her my blessing when she is duly wedded." "It may not be," spake up one of those of Emmet.