VALENTINE. Ladies, have pity on a dull man, and explain.
MISS FANNY (timidly). Please not to ask us to explain. I fear we have already said more than was proper. Phoebe, forgive.
(To CAPTAIN BROWN this but adds to the mystery, and he looks to PHOEBE for enlightenment.)
PHOEBE (desperate). I understand, sir, there is a belief that I keep Livvy in confinement because of your passion for her.
VALENTINE. My passion for Miss Livvy? Why, Miss Fanny, I cannot abide her—nor she me. (Looking manfully at MISS PHOEBE.) Furthermore, I am proud to tell you that this is the lady whom I adore.
MISS FANNY. Phoebe?
VALENTINE. Yes, ma'am.
(The ladies are for a moment bereft of speech, and the uplifted PHOEBE cannot refrain from a movement which, if completed, would be a curtsy. Her punishment follows promptly.)
MISS HENRIETTA (from her heart). Phoebe, I am so happy 'tis you.
MISS FANNY. Dear Phoebe, I give you joy. And you also, sir. (MISS PHOEBE sends her sister a glance of unutterable woe, and escapes from the room. It is most ill-bred of her.) Miss Susan, I do not understand!