This is genuine romance. ’Tis sweeter than ambrosia. Oh, why was I so long pent up in the heart of a continent? Farewell, dull facts of business which have stung me sharper than thistles. Roll on, magnificent star, and bring night and romance.
[Exit.
Scene II.—Portico of the Dolphin Inn.
Enter Whetstone and Bluegrass in conversation.
Whetstone.
Northlake is a most melancholy man. I believe if he had a warehouse full of anchors, and the market for anchors was booming, he’d be hopelessly unhappy. Said I to him, to-day: Northlake, don’t look so confoundedly gloomy; cheer up! the day I marry your niece Violet, you shall have five hundred thousand dollars.
Bluegrass.
His villa looks like the residence of a prince.
Whetstone.
So it does; but it is covered with a mortgage from cellar to roof. One month ago Northlake was a rich man, but, leaving his books and plunging into speculation, he lost not only his fortune, but also that of his niece Violet, who is an orphan, and whose fortune was intrusted to his keeping. Her loss seems to trouble him most.