"Do not speak thus, Mr.Grahame.In what was my lamented father better than yourself--my mother than Lady Helen?
and if she were in very truth my inferior in birth, the virtues and beauty of Lilla Grahame would do honour to the proudest peer of this proud land." "My boy, my gallant boy!" sobbed the agitated father, his irritability gone, dissolved, like the threatening cloud of a summer day beneath some genial sunbeam, and as he wrung Captain Fortescue's hand again and again in his, the tears streamed like an infant's down his cheek.
"_Will_ I consent, _will_ I give you my blessing?
Oh, to see you the husband of my poor child would be _too, too_ much happiness, happiness wholly, utterly undeserved.

But, oh, Edward, can Mr.Hamilton, can Lord Delmont consent to your union with one, whose only brother is a disgraced, dishonoured outcast, whose father is a selfish, irritable misanthrope ?" "Can the misconduct of Cecil cast in the eyes of the just and good one shadow on the fair fame of his sister?
No, my dear sir; it is you who have looked somewhat unkindly and unjustly on the world, as when you mingle again with your friends, in company with your children, you will not fail, with your usual candour, to acknowledge.

A selfish, irritable misanthrope," he added, archly smiling.

"You cannot terrify me, Mr.
Grahame.

I know the charge is false, and I dread it not." "Ask me not to join the world again," said Grahame, hoarsely; "in all else, the duties of my children shall be as laws, but that"-- "Well, well, we will not urge it now, my dear sir," replied the young sailor, cheerfully; then added, with the eager agitation of affection, "But Lilla, my Lilla.