Mrs. D. I see no happiness, in our daughter's being shut up with such an eternal grumbler.
Mr. D. Oh! but his heart is noble!
Mrs. D. An inconsiderate mind is better than such sour virtue, if indeed it deserves the name.
Mr. D. I own I am disappointed in both of them.
Mrs. D. I fear, my dear Drave, your mode of education has contributed to make them hate each other.
Mr. D. Hate? Philip hate?—Never.——If Lewis does, I am sorry.
Mrs. D. He cannot love such sour behaviour—he does not hate—but he is cold—they have not spoken to each other these three months.
Mr. D. We must put an end to this. They must see each other, come to an explanation, and all will be well. Lewis esteems you—prevail on him to meet his brother with kindness.
Mrs. D. Willingly.—And now concerning Augusta—what will you do?
Mr. D. [thoughtfully]. Now I see clearly—now I can account for many strange things: it is too true—her passion is too deeply rooted to be overcome. I will never force her inclination—but I must first be certain that Lewis really loves her.