you, Jenny—and then ſo humble to her relations—to be ſure, Papa!—as my Aunt pleaſes—my Siſter knows beſt—But with all her demurneſs and humility ſhe has no objection to be Lady Melvil, it ſeems, nor to any wickedneſs that can make her ſo.
Mrs. Heidel. She Lady Melville? Compoſe yourſelf, Niece! I'll ladyſhip her indeed:—a little creepin, cantin—She ſhan't be the better for a farden of my money. But tell me, child, how does this intriguing with Sir John correſpond with her partiality to Lovewell? I don't ſee a concatunation here.
Miſs Sterl. There I was deceived, Madam. I took all their whiſperings and ſtealing into corners to be the mere attraction of vulgar minds; but, behold! their private meetings were not to contrive their own inſipid happineſs, but to conſpire againſt mine.—But I know whence proceeds Mr. Lovewell's reſentment to me. I could not ſtoop to be familiar with my father's clerk, and ſo I have loſt his intereſt.
Mrs. Heidel. My ſpurrit to a T.—My dear child! [kiſſing her.]—Mr. Heidelberg loſt his election for member of parliament, becauſe I would not demean myſelf to be ſlobbered about by drunken ſhoemakers, beaſtly cheeſemongers, and greaſy butchers and tallow-chandlers. However, Niece, I can't help diffuring a little in opinon from you in this matter. My experunce and ſagucity makes me ſtill ſuſpect, that there is ſomething more between her and that Lovewell, notwithſtanding this affair of Sir John—I had my eye upon them the whole time of breakfaſt.—Sir John, I obſerved, looked a little confounded, indeed, though I knew nothing of what had paſſed in the garden. You ſeemed to ſit upon thorns too: but Fanny and Mr. Lovewell made quite another-gueſs ſort of a figur; and were as perfet a pictur of two diſtreſt lovers, as if it had been drawn by Raphael Angelo.—As to Sir John and Fanny, I want a matter of fact.
