(within.) Who's there?——I'm lock'd in. Murder! fire!
Foss. Dear madam, I beg your pardon.
[Unlocks the door. Enter Townley.]
'Tis well you call'd. I am so apt to lock this door; an action meerly mechanical, not spontaneous.
Town. Your conduct, Mr. Fossile, for this quarter of an hour has been somewhat mysterious. It has suggested to me what I almost blush to name; your locking me up, confirms this suspicion. Pray speak plainly, what has caused this alteration?
[Fossile shews her the letter.
Is this all?
[Gives him the letter back.
Foss. (reads) Either I mistake the encouragement I have had. What encouragement?
Town. From my uncle,——if I must be your interpreter.
Foss. Or I am to be happy to night.
Town. To be married.——If there can be happiness in that state.