Bev. Certainly Doctor; the evening's before us. Pray vary the entertainment according to your own taste.
Des. My dear madame, I must also request your presence, and, as what I am about to say is important, and guests are still arriving, this apartment will soon become too public for our purpose, therefore, with your permission, we'll retire to the library which, as the works it contains are purely instructive, is about the last place our fashionable friends are likely to visit.
Mad. L. Had we not better wait until we return from—
Des. By no means. What I have to say must be said at once, and so, madame, permit me.
[Offers arm.
Bev. Doctor, that's a remarkably nice young man you recommended for steward.
Des. Never mind him. We'll talk about him to-morrow.
[Exeunt.
Enter Manuel, dressed for traveling.
Man. For her, for her, this bitter, bitter trial. Oh, let that thought sustain me. Falsely I had imagined that the change from the sweet dreamy days of my youth, to the stern realities of my manhood, had created for me that tower of strength to the unfortunate—endurance. But, no, no; too truly do I feel that, until this moment, I have not known what utter misery is—one last, last look at scenes made sacred by her presence; at objects hallowed by her touch, and then, and then—