Char. (In confusion, after a pause, aside) Is she laughing at me now, or trying to wheedle me into a good humour? I feel, Miss Worret, that I am expressing myself with too much warmth—I must therefore inform you, that being ordered home with despatches, and having some leisure time on my hands on my return, I thought it but proper as I passed the house to call at your door—just to say—a—a—just civilly to say—false! cruel! perfidious girl! you may break the tough heart of a sailor, but damn me if he will ever own it broke for love of you!
Helen. On my honour, sir, I do not understand what all this means.
Char. You don’t?
Helen. No, sir—if your purpose here is insult, you might, methinks, have found some fitter object than one who has so limited a power to resent it! [Going.
Char. Stay, madam, stay—what a face is there! a smile upon it too: oh, Helen, spare those smiles! they once could wake my soul to ecstasy! but now they rouse it into madness: save them, madam, for a happier lover—save them for lord Austencourt.
Helen. Charles, Charles, you have been deceived: but come, sit down and hear me.
Char. I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience which the subject demands.
Helen. As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and fortune—
Char. (Rising in anger) Spare yourself the trouble of further explanation, madam; I see the whole at once—you are now going to tell me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the frequented shrine of avarice and ambition!
Helen. (Rising also) When I am next inclined to descend to explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me. [Going.