JOSEPHINE. Haven’t I got to write out all the invitations for our ball on the 23d?
JULIA. Your birthday?—true.
JOSEPHINE. Yes; that is the professed reason—but of course it is on your account that it is given.
JULIA (reproachfully). Josephine!
JOSEPHINE. I know a younger sister’s duty, Miss Templeton (makes a low courtesy and exit L. H.).
JULIA. Josephine! sister!—Did she but know how she misjudges me! How heavily I have been punished for that pride, that apparent insensibility, with which she reproaches me! Oh, Harry! Harry! could you but tell how bitterly I have repented! But surely, surely the cruel, wicked indifference with which I treated his affection, his devotion, cannot have entirely destroyed them—some little spark of the old flame must still remain! else why is he so constantly here? Why does he still seem to seek my presence? At any rate, he shall see that I am no heartless coquette; and when this Mr. Royston presents himself, as I’m sure he will (seeing ROYSTON, who enters from R. H.)— I thought so!
ROYS. (aside). She’s alone! She’s decidedly handsome. Yet, as I said before, there’s something about the other that—that— (Aloud, and bowing to JULIA.) Miss Templeton!
JULIA (courtesying). Sir! the business matter in which you are engaged is, I presume, settled?
ROYS. Yes; the signatures alone are required.
JULIA. In that case perhaps I had better— (About to retire.)