Clem. Ungenerous and unkind!—Edward, I almost hate you. Is a little money, then, to sway my affections? Shame, Edward, shame on you! Is such your opinion of my constancy? (Weeps.) You must judge me by your own heart.
Edw. Clementina! dearest Clementina!—I did!—but rather—that is,—I was not in earnest;—but when we value any object as I value you,—it may be forgiven, if I feel at times a little jealous;—yes, dearest, jealous!
Clem. ’Twas jealousy then, Edward, which made you so unkind? Well, then, I can forgive that.
Edw. Nothing but jealousy, dearest! I cannot help, at times, representing you surrounded by noble admirers,—all of them suing to you,—not for yourself, but for your money, tempting you with their rank;—and it makes me jealous, horribly jealous! I cannot compete with lords, Clementina,—a poor barrister without a brief.
Clem. I have loved you for yourself, Edward. I trust you have done the same toward me.
Edw. Yes; upon my soul, my Clementina!
Clem. Then my uncle’s disposition of his property will make no difference in me. For your sake, my dear Edward, I hope he will not forget me. What’s that? Mrs Jellybags is coming out of the room. Haste, Edward;—you must not be seen here. Away, dearest!—and may God bless you.
Edw. (kisses her hand.) Heaven preserve my adored, my matchless, ever-to-be-loved Clementina.
(Exeunt separately.)