Mat. Why, ye talk nonsense as well as ever, dear; but I’m glad to see ye. (She sits. Caroline kneels at her feet.)
Car. How well—how very well you’re looking—and, heavens! how lovely!
Mat. Yes, dear. Ye’re lookin’ older. Ye’re not married yet, I suppose?
Car. Alas, no! (Wiping her eyes.)
Mat. Don’t fret, dear; it’ll come.
Car. Oh, Matilda, a maiden’s heart should be as free as the summer sun itself; and it’s sad when, in youth’s heyday, its trilling gladness has been trodden underfoot by the iron-shod heel of a serpent!
Mat. Yes; it’s sad when that’s happened. Tell me all about it.
Car. Swear that, come what may, no torture shall ever induce you to reveal the secret I am going to confide to you?
Mat. Oh, I’ll swear that with pleasure.