_Constance._--"For children! For vulgar, silly boys! For a gentleman, nothing!" _Bartlett_, with rising wrath.--"Then I have no excuse, unless I say that I am no gentleman." _Constance._--"_I_ shall not dispute you in anything; and I will leave you to the enjoyment of your mirth." _Bartlett._--"Very well. As you like. I am sorry to have offended you. I shall take care never to offend you again." Constance sweeps towards one door, at the threshold of which she pauses to look round and see Bartlett dashing her box of colours together as if it were his own, and thrusting it under his arm, seizing with a furious hand the canvas on the easel and his coat from the chair-back, and then rushing from the room. She drops her face into her hands and vanishes, and the next moment Mrs. Wyatt enters. IV. MRS. WYATT _and_ GENERAL WYATT. _Mrs. Wyatt._--"What is the matter with Constance, James? Have you been"-- She goes up to the General and discovers his vigilance: "Asleep!" Waking him: "James, James! Is _this_ the way you do the dragon, as you call it?" _General Wyatt_, starting awake: "Dragon? Dragon? What dragon? I dreamt I was a perfect fiery dragon, and went about breathing flame and smoke. How long have I slept, Margaret? Where is Mr. Bartlett? Where is Constance?" _Mrs. Wyatt._--"Oh, you may well ask that, James. I just met Constance at the door, in tears. Oh, I hope nothing dreadful has happened." _General Wyatt._--"Nonsense, Margaret. Here, help me up, my dear. My nap hasn't done me any good. I'm stiff all over." _Mrs. Wyatt_, anxiously.--"I'm afraid you have taken cold, James." _General Wyatt_, with impatience.--"Cold? No! Not in the least. I'm perfectly well. But that was a very unpleasant dream. Margaret, I'm afraid that I breathed rather--explosively, at one time." _Mrs. Wyatt._--"Oh, James, this is worse and worse. It must have mortified Constance, dreadfully." _General Wyatt_, taking his wife's arm, and limping from the scene:--"Well, well! Never mind! I'll make it right with Bartlett. He's a man of sense, and will help me laugh it off with her. It will be all right, Margaret; don't worry over a trifle like that." _Mrs. Wyatt_, as they disappear:--"Trifle? Her whole happiness may depend upon it." At the instant of their withdrawal, Constance and Bartlett, hastily entering by opposite doors, encounter each other in the middle of the room. V. BARTLETT _and_ CONSTANCE _Both_, at once.--"I came to"-- _Bartlett._--"Restore you your box of colours and your canvas, which I carried off by mistake." _Constance._--"To say that I am very, very sorry for my rudeness to you, and to entreat you to forget my abominable words, if you can." _Bartlett_, with a generous rush of emotion, dropping the canvas on the floor at one side and the box of colours on the other, and snatching her extended hand to his lips.-- "Don't say that. I deserved a thousand times more. You were right."