Sir. R. It is. The treaty of marriage between lord Austencourt and Helen is this morning concluded.
Char. And does she consent?
Sir R. There can be little doubt of that.
Char. But little doubt! False Helen! Come, come, I know my Helen better.
Sir R. I repeat my words, sir. It is not the curse of every parent to have a disobedient child.
Char. By Heaven, sir, that reflection cuts me to the heart. You have ever found in me the obedience, nay more, the affection of a son, till circumstance on circumstance convinced me, I no longer possessed the affection of a father.
Sir R. Charles, we are too warm. I feel that I have in some degree merited your severe reproof—give me your hand, and to convince you that you undervalue my feelings towards you, I will now confess that I have been employed during your absence, in planning an arrangement which will place you above the malice of fortune—you know our neighbour, Mrs. Richland—
Char. What, the gay widow with a fat jointure? What of her?
Sir R. She will make not only a rich, but a good wife. I know she likes you—I’m sure of it.
Char. Likes me!