Notwithstanding the arrival of Charles, and the happy result of the interview with my father, my mind is not at ease;—these strange rumours must have some foundation;—one says he is married to Maria; another says, he is discovered to be illegitimate; a third reports, he was found in company with a woman of ill fame; and to conclude the catalogue of evil tidings, a fourth says, that old Mr. Loveyet is going to disinherit him, in consequence of his having made him a grandfather, since his arrival.—But here he comes.
Enter Young Loveyet.
Loveyet. She seems very thoughtful;—perhaps, she too has been unfortunate in her suit to her father;—or, what is far worse, perhaps,—but I will not cherish such gloomy apprehensions.—Your servant, madam.
Harriet. Good day, Mr. Loveyet.—"Your servant, madam!"—What a stoical salutation! I fear there is too much truth in what I have heard.
[Aside.
Loveyet. You seem unusually serious, Miss Harriet: I hope Mr. Trueman has not proved relentless as you expected.
Harriet. No sir; it gives me pleasure to acquaint you, my father was all kindness and forgiveness.
Loveyet. I wish I could say so of mine;—he indeed was kind and forgiving too at first; but no sooner had I begun to anticipate approaching happiness, than one luckless circumstance deprived me of all that love and hope had inspired.
Harriet. An unlucky circumstance, indeed; but would the disappointment really be so great, if you were obliged to give up the thought of an alliance with me?