Countess. Not so harsh, and not so hasty! Those great sentiments of contempt of inequality in rank are very fine in a romance; but we happen not to be inhabitants of an ideal world. How could you introduce her to the circle we live in? You surely would not attempt to present her to—
Bar. Object as you will—my answer is—I love. Sister, you see a man before you, who—
Countess. Who wants a wife.
Bar. No; who has deliberately poised advantage against disadvantage; domestic ease and comfort against the false gaieties of fashion. I can withdraw into the country. I need no honours to make my tenants happy; and my heart will teach me to make their happiness my own. With such a wife as this, children who resemble her, and fortune enough to spread comfort around me, what would the soul of man have more?
Countess. This is all vastly fine. I admire your plan; only you seem to have forgotten one trifling circumstance.
Bar. And that is—
Countess. Whether Mrs. Haller will have you or not.
Bar. There, sister, I just want your assistance.—[Seizing her hand.] Good Henrietta!
Countess. Well, here's my hand. I'll do all I can for you. St!—We had near been overheard. They are coming. Be patient and obedient.
Enter Count, and Mrs. Haller, leaning on his arm.