Mrs. H. What shall I reply? Derision never fell from your lips; and I am little calculated to support it.
Countess. As little as you are calculated to be the cause of it. No; I was in earnest.—Now?
Mrs. H. You confuse me!—But why should I play the prude? I will own there was a time, when I thought myself handsome. 'Tis past. Alas! the enchanting beauties of a female countenance arise from peace of mind—The look, which captivates an honourable man, must be reflected from a noble soul.
Countess. Then Heaven grant my bosom may ever hold as pure a heart, as now those eyes bear witness lives in yours!
Mrs. H. [With sudden wildness.] Oh! Heaven forbid!
Countess. [Astonished.] How!
Mrs. H. [Checking her tears.] Spare me! I am a wretch. The sufferings of three years can give me no claim to your friendship—No, not even to your compassion. Oh! spare me!
[Going.
Countess. Stay, Mrs. Haller. For the first time, I beg your confidence.—My brother loves you.
Mrs. H. [Starting, and gazing full in the face of the Countess.] For mirth, too much—for earnest, too mournful!