Gil. What here, master? why there’s not a corner—not a single corner to receive the visit of a cat—the house is full to the very chimney pots.
Col. Aye, as it is but for once, we must contrive—let me see—as we have no other room, master Ambrose can take part of mine—so bustle Gilbert, bustle, and see to it.
Gil. Yes, sir, yes.—(Aside.) I’m sorry master’s got that letter though; it was an ugly postman that brought it, and it can’t be good.
[Exit. L.
Col. Now, Lucy, that we are together, I would wish to have some talk with you. You know, girl, I love you, as though you were my own, and were sorrow or mischance to light upon you, I think ’twould go nigh to break my heart. Now answer me with candour—you know Grayling—honest Ned Grayling? why, what do you turn so pale at?
Lucy. Oh! uncle, I beseech you, name him not.
Col. Tut—tut—this is all idle and girlish—the man loves you, Lucy.
Lucy. Loves me!
Col. Aye; Ned is not so sprightly and trim a lad as many, but he hath that which makes all in a husband, girl—he has a sound heart and a noble spirit.
Lucy. Possibly—I do not know.