Will. My cousin Sophy: She is in the garden just now with all the children about her; and they have pulled off her hat in their play, and she looks so pretty—I—I mean good humour'd, and—
Bea. (smiling.) There is no harm in calling her pretty, William,—But Mr. Morgan has got something very serious to say to you: he wishes to settle his fortune upon you.
Wil. His whole fortune upon me!
Mor. Yes, my brave William, every shilling of it.
Will. What! and Sophia and all the little Seabrights, who are as nearly related to you, to have nothing?
Mor. It shall be all your own.
Will. (with great vehemence.) Hang me then if I take one sixpence more than my own share!
Mor. Ah! I see how it is: I am a blasted tree from which no sapling shoots: my grey hairs are despised.
Will. O say not so, my good Sir! (bending one knee to the ground, and kissing the old man's hand.) I will bow my head as affectionately beneath your blessing as the most dutiful child. But you shall have many children to respect and love you! and one of them—O you shall see one of them that will make your heart leap with pleasure! (hurrying away.)
Bea. Where are you going in such haste?
Will. Never mind; I'll soon return.(Exit.
