Mollen. What a position for a father! When I think of my Rosamund—the blow to her! And Balsted—poor, doting Balsted!
Margaret. (crawling towards Mollentrave, humbly) We've been very wicked, we know! But we'll do what you tell us!
Mollen. (both rise) Arise, my children! I will befriend you!
Everard. (up R. C.) Oh, Mr. Mollentrave, you are the noblest of men!
Margaret. (down R. C.) The best, the kindest!
Mollen. (C.) (raising them both) I will break the dreadful news to them—ah, very gently—We must not be brutal! Not a word to them yet—They must hear it from me!
Margaret. Yes—oh yes!
Mollen. Oh, the cruelty of youth! Go now—go—let me consider what had best be done.
Everard. (seizing his hand and wringing it) How to thank you!