“Oh! if you don't, I don't. I hate myself, so it is no wonder you h-hate me.”
“I love you more than ever.”
“Then you are a good soul! Of course you know I always—I—esteemed you, Richard.”
“No! I had an idea you despised me!”
“How silly you are! Can't you see? When I thought you were not perfection, which you are now, it vexed me to death; you never saw me affront any one but you?”
“No, I never did! What does that prove?”
“That depends upon the wit of him that reasons thereon.” (Coming to herself.)
“I love you, Barbara! Will you honor me with your hand?”
“No! I am not so base, so selfish. You are worth a hundred of me, and here have I been treating you de haut en bas. Dear Richard, poor Richard. Oh! oh! oh!” (A perfect flood of tears.)
“Barbara! I regret nothing; this moment pays for all.”