"Well," said Mrs. Oakley, "if he is dead, pray what hinders you from listening to the chosen vessel, I should like to know?"
"Do not. Oh do not, mother, say any more to me—I cannot, dare not trust myself to speak to you upon such a subject."
"What is this?" said Mr. Oakley, stepping into the room. "Johanna in tears! What has happened?"
Mr. Oakley Defends Johanna From The Violence Of Her Mother.
"Father—dear father!"
"And Mr. O.," cried Mrs. Oakley, "what business is it of yours, I should like to know? Be so good, sir, as to attend to your spectacles, and such like rubbish, and not to interfere with my daughter."
"Dear me!—ain't she my daughter likewise?"
"Oh yes, Mr. O.! Go on with your base, vile, wretched, contemptible, unmanly insinuations. Do go on, pray—I like it. Oh, you odious wretch! You spectacle-making monster!"
"Do not," cried Johanna, who saw the heightened colour of her father's cheek. "Oh, do not let me be the unhappy cause of any quarrelling. Father! father!"