Miss Nev. Well! success attend you. In the meantime, I'll go amuse my aunt with the old pretence of a violent passion for my cousin.
Exit.
Enter Marlow followed by a Servant.
Marl. I wonder what Hastings could mean by sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when he knows the only place I have, is the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door.—Have you deposited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered you? Have you put it into her own hands?
Serv. Yes, your honour.
Marl. She said she'd keep it safe, did she?
Serv. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough; she asked me how I came by it, and she said she had a great mind to make me give an account of myself.
Exit.
Marl. Ha! ha! ha! They're safe, however. What an unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! This little bar-maid, though, runs in my head most strangely, and drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken.
Enter Hastings.