Sir W. Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the village these three hours!
Helen. In the village! Oh, what, you heard he was in the village!
Sir W. Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house—egad I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear of finding you at a fault, you puss.
Helen. Oh! you were afraid he should come here, were you?
Sir W. Yes; but I’ll take care he shan’t; however, as my maxim is (now my wife doesn’t hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key, ’till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again.
Helen. What! lock me up!
Sir W. Damme if I don’t. Come, walk into that room, and I’ll take the key with me. (pointing to the room where Charles entered.)
Helen. Into that room?
Sir W. Yes.
Helen. And do you think I shall stay there by myself?