Sir W. (taking a letter from his pocket) First, my dear niece, I must add to the number. I have a little business. A petition to present from a protégé of mine.
Clara. A protégé of yours!—Then it is granted, whatever it be.
Sir W. (smiling) Recollect your promise, Clara.
Clara. Oh, true—it must be in writing.
{She goes hastily to the writing-table, and takes up a pen.
Sir W. Read before you write, my dear—I insist upon it.
Clara. Oh, sir, when it is a request of yours, how can I grant it soon enough? But it shall be done in the way you like best—slowly—deliberately—(opening the letter)—in minuet time. And I will look before I leap—and I’ll read before I write. (She reads the signature.) Gilbert! Honest Gilbert, how glad I shall be to do any thing for you, independently of your master! (Reads on, suddenly lets the letter drop, and clasps her hands.) Sir—Uncle, my dear uncle, how unfortunate I am! Why did, not you ask me an hour ago?—Within this hour I have promised the new inn to another person.
Sir W. Indeed!—that is unfortunate. My poor Gilbert will be sadly disappointed.
Clara. How vexed I am! But I never should have thought of Gilbert for the inn: I fancied he disliked Ireland so much that he would never have settled here.
Sir W. So thought I till this morning. But love, my dear—love is lord of all. Poor Gilbert!