Priscilla.
Mr. Wilfrid.
Wilfrid Brudenell.
Well? Oh, now, what are you crying about?
Priscilla.
The young person, sir, who was with the two ladies who came to see our cartoon, has been sent back on foot, and she’s downstairs begging for a morsel of water; and, oh, Mr. Wilfrid, the poor thing looks so weak and ill!
Wilfrid Brudenell.
Ill! Where is she?
[He goes into the villa, as Leslie slowly ascends the garden steps. The serenade is heard again.]
Leslie.