Car. Alas, never! for (pity me) he is faithless! We corresponded for a year, and then his letters ceased; and now, for eighteen months, no crumb nor crust of comfort has appeased my parched and thirsting soul! Fortunately my solicitor has all his letters.
Mat. Oh, I see. And when does the action come off?
Car. I know not. We have advertised for him right and left. Twenty men of law are on his track, and my brother Bulstrode, an attorney’s clerk, carries a writ about him night and day. Thus my heart-springs are laid bare that every dolt may gibe at them—the whole county rings with my mishap—its gloomy details are on every bumpkin’s tongue! This—this is my secret. Swear that you will never reveal it!
Mat. Oh! but ye’ll get thumping damages when ye do find him.
Car. It may be so. The huckstering men of law appraise my heart-wreck at five thousand pounds!
Mat. Well, and I wish ye may get it, dear!
Car. Thank you, oh! thank you for that wish.
Mat. Ye’re not goin’?
Car. No; I have come to spend a long, long day. I’m going to take my bonnet off. (Solemnly.) Dear Matilda, we have not met for many many years, and I long—I cannot tell you, Matilda, how earnestly I long—to see all your new things!
[Exeunt together, as O’Fipp enters.