Che. Being all the leisure I can afford—otherwise my whole life should be passed here, could I but command your sweet society.
Miss Mea. During your absence we have been imprudent enough to correspond, and the result is, that we have written and talked ourselves into love.
Che. And when a young gentleman and lady set about mutually confessing all their thoughts and feelings, their likes and dislikes, their hopes and fears, what other result could be expected?
Miss Mea. And yet a strange fancy continually haunts me, that in all our candid confessions you conceal something from me. I cannot bring myself to believe that I am in possession of every thought, feeling, or circumstance belonging to you.
Che. Even there a sympathy exists between us—I am troubled with precisely the same fancy.
Miss Mea. You think that I practice some little concealment respecting myself?
Che. I confess that I do.
Miss Mea. What can it be?
Che. Ah! what can it be? Perhaps immediate matrimony will remove the mistrust.
Miss Mea. If you will marry me, you know what you are to expect. I have no friend but my aunt—you see me as you first knew me, a half-educated country miss. I think I have a good heart. I know I have an indifferent temper—right management may certainly do much to correct that fault—I am very whimsical, very lazy, want a deal of attention, and can go into something like a passion when offended!