Let reason awaken, and govern the flame.
Miss Als. I declare not amiss, Blandish: only a little too plaintive—but I dare say she can play a country dance, when the enlivening is required—So, Miss Alton, you are welcome to my protection; and indeed I wish you to stay from this hour. My toilet being nearly finished, I shall have a horrid vacation till dinner.
Miss Alton. Madam, you do me great honour, and I very readily obey you.
Mrs. Blandish. I wish you joy, Miss Alton, of the most enviable situation a young person of elegant talents could be raised to. You and I will vie with each other, to prevent our dear countess ever knowing a melancholy hour. She has but one fault to correct—the giving way to the soft effusions of a too tender heart.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Madam, a letter——
Miss Als. It's big enough for a state packet—Oh! mercy, a petition—for Heaven's sake, Miss Alton, look it over. [Miss Alton reads.] I should as soon read one of Lady Newchapel's methodist sermons—What does it contain?
Miss Alton. Madam, an uncommon series of calamities, which prudence could neither see, nor prevent: the reverse of a whole family from affluence and content to misery and imprisonment; and it adds, that the parties have the honour, remotely, to be allied to you.
Miss Als. Remote relations! ay, they always think one's made of money.