BENNET. It seemed to me one ought to leave no stone unturned. [He returns to his labours in the bedroom.]
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [after a pause]. I do hope she’ll like the Bennets.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she will—after a time, when she is used to them.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I am so anxious it should turn out well.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she’s a good woman. Vernon would never have fallen in love with her if she hadn’t been good. [They take each other’s hand, and sit side by side, as before, upon the settee. The twilight has faded: only the faint firelight remains, surrounded by shadows.] Do you remember, when he was a little mite, how he loved to play with your hair? [The younger Miss Wetherell laughs.] I always envied you your hair.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of us both. Do you remember when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for us to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet? I have always reproached myself that we refused.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was such a big boy for his age.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I think we might have stretched a point in a case of illness.
The room has grown very dark. The door has been softly opened; Vernon and Fanny have entered noiselessly. Fanny remains near the door hidden by a screen, Vernon has crept forward. At this point the two ladies become aware that somebody is in the room. They are alarmed.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Who’s there?