Bel. It is well—we thank you.
Ang. For wha wadna help the unfortunate?
Bel. (occupied with Miss Treherne). Exactly—every one would.
Ang. Or feed the hungry?
Bel. No doubt.
Ang. It just brings the tear drop to my ee’ to think——
Bel. (leading him off). My friend, we would be alone, this maiden and I. Farewell! (Exit Angus, into cottage.) Belinda—my own—my life! Compose yourself. It was in truth a weird and gruesome accident. The line is blocked—your parasol is broken, and your butterscotch trampled in the dust, but no serious harm is done. Come, be cheerful. We are safe—quite safe.
Miss T. Safe! Ah, Belvawney, my own own Belvawney—there is, I fear, no safety for us so long as we are liable to be overtaken by that fearful Major to whom I was to have been married this morning!
Bel. Major McGillicuddy? I confess I do not feel comfortable when I think of Major McGillicuddy.
Miss T. You know his barbaric nature, and how madly jealous he is. If he should find that I have eloped with you he will most surely shoot us both!