Lady. [Coming forward.] Who is a hypocrite, sir?
Nev. Madam!
Lady. Who is a hypocrite, sir? answer me.
Nev. Ask your own heart, that can best inform you.
Lady. Tell me, Mr Neville, what have I done, that you dare insult me thus?
Nev. What have you done! look on that lady, madam;—there all my hopes and wishes were combined!—There was the very summit of my bliss!—I thought I had attained it; but in the moment of my happiness, you came, crushed every hope, and baffled all my joys.
Lady. Upon my word, sir, very romantic,—but I thank Heaven, I look for approbation in a better opinion than that of Mr Neville's.
Nev. 'Tis well you do, madam; for were I your judge, your punishment should be exemplary.—But I'll waste words no more—I only hope [To Louisa.] you, madam, are satisfied that one of my errors may at least be forgiven, and this last suspicion for ever blotted from your memory.
Lady. Sir,—from that lady's forgiveness you have nothing to expect—if she consents to pardon you, I'll take care my lord never shall.
Nev. No—I do not hope for forgiveness—I have heard her determination; and, cruel as it is, to that I must resign;—she may be assured I never will intrude where I know I offend.