Augusta [with a downcast look]. My dearest father, can you forgive me?
Mr. D. You love. Heaven crown your love with happiness! It is not for that I blame you: love is involuntary.
Augusta. But I did not open my heart to you.
Mr. D. Yes, there you hurt me severely.
Augusta. I love nobody as I do yourself and my mother. Speak, dear mother; how often did the confession of my attachment tremble upon my lips!
Mr. D. And why not avow it?
Augusta. I never had a favourable opportunity.
Mr. D. [hastily]. That is the effect of those unhappy books again——
Mrs. D. Be gentle, my dear Drave.
Mr. D. [composed]. You were not always thus: formerly, you thought me worthy of your confidence.