He bestowed one parting glance of contempt upon the discomfited Bartley, and marched his niece proudly off, more determined than ever that she should be his daughter.

But for once he was wise enough not to press that topic: he let her indignation work alone.
Moreover, though he was a little wrong-headed and not a little pig-headed, he was a noble-minded man, and nothing noble passed him unobserved or unappreciated.
"_That_ Bartley's daughter!" said he to Julia.

"Ay, when roses spring from dunghills, and eagles are born of sparrow-hawks.

Brave girl!--brave girl!" "Oh, uncle," said Julia, "I am so glad you appreciate her!" "Appreciate her!" said the Colonel; "what should I be worth if I did not?
Why, these are the women that win Waterloo in the persons of their sons.
That girl could never breed a coward nor a cheat." Then his incisive voice mellowed suddenly.

"Poor young thing," said he, with manly emotion, "I saw her come out of that room pale as death to do another woman justice.