Eglantine. Deaf?
Jane. Not deef, miss; deef ain’t a touch to it.
Eglantine. Deaf? it’s out of the question! I won’t have him! I refuse him! A hundred thousand times I refuse such a husband.
Jane. Quite right, miss. He’d be the death of me. Your pa can’t marry you without your consent: don’t give it.
Eglantine. Never! They don’t know me. Cruel! cruel! (Weeps.)
Jane. So it be, Miss Eglantine; so it be. I never see the beat on’t. Better give him the mitten out of hand, miss.
Eglantine. Instantly, if he were here. The wretch! How dare he?
Jane. I’ll call him. (To door. Knocks.) Mr. Whittermat! I say!—He’s furrin, miss.—Mr. Whittermat! (Knocks furiously.)
(Whitwell comes out of chamber; sees Eglantine.)