Barbara. Why, madam, I did think it was a case with Mr. Austin.
Miss Foster. With Mr. Austin? why, how very rustic! The attentions of a gentleman like Mr. Austin, child, are not supposed to lead to matrimony. He is a feature of society: an ornament: a personage: a private gentleman by birth, but a kind of king by habit and reputation. What woman could he marry? Those to whom he might properly aspire are all too far below him. I have known George Austin too long, child, and I understand that the very greatness of his success condemns him to remain unmarried.
Barbara. Sure, madam, that must be tiresome for him.
Miss Foster. Some day, child, you will know better than to think so. George Austin, as I conceive him, and as he is regarded by the world, is one of the triumphs of the other sex. I walked my first minuet with him: I wouldn’t tell you the year, child, for worlds; but it was soon after his famous rencounter with Colonel Villiers. He had killed his man, he wore pink and silver, was most elegantly pale, and the most ravishing creature!
Barbara. Well, madam, I believe that: he is the most beautiful gentleman still.
SCENE II
To these, Dorothy, L
Dorothy (entering). Good-morning, aunt! Is there anything for me? (She goes eagerly to table, and looks at letters.)
Miss Foster. Good-morrow, niece. Breakfast, Barbara.
Dorothy (with letter unopened). Nothing.