Counsellor. He wished to have you declared a prodigal—protested against your marriage—and, as your father refused, to listen to him, flew into a passion with him, and vehemently threatened you.
Lewis. But why lock the door?
Counsellor. Does not my father know your passionate temper?—He did it to avoid mischief.
Lewis. And why refuse me that pocket-book?
Counsellor. Aye, the pocket-book—yes—it was forgotten in this confusion: you shall have it—it contains the materials on which the whole project was founded—attestations of your prodigality, of trifling errors artfully perverted into flagrant vices, and such things——
Lewis. Well, well, let me see them, I will have these proofs of his hypocrisy printed—come, come——
Counsellor [at a loss]. Yes—but my father will perhaps be gone out——
Lewis. How? you told me before, he waited for you.
Counsellor. Besides—they are only copies—the originals——
Lewis. No doubt you have those also, as you opened his bureau; shew me those papers.