BART. Yes. And after the somewhat harsh rejection I met with at your hands--which, no doubt, I fully merited--what greater proof can I give of the esteem in which I still hold you than to confide my secret to you? JULIA (_starting_). A secret? (_Aside._) What can he mean? BART. That, on the eve of leaving your family, I should feel far less regret could I but indulge in the hope of ever becoming connected with it by a closer tie. JULIA (_aside, and joyfully_). Can it be? Has he forgotten--forgiven? Can he still care for me? (_Aloud._) But why this silence--this want of confidence in me? BART. Frankly, because we feared you would oppose our wishes, our hopes. JULIA (_eagerly_). _Our_ hopes? _We_ feared? BART. Yes! She especially. JULIA. _She?_ Of whom are you speaking? Her name? BART. Surely I must have mentioned it? Your sister. JULIA (_starting from her chair_). Josephine! BART. Yes; rejected by her elder sister, I sought and found solace and consolation in her goodness and sympathy. JULIA (_with increasing anger_). So! Your frequent visits, your constant presence here, apparently so inconsistent with your "wounded feelings" (_satirically_), are now explained! It was for _her!_ And _I_ was to be kept in ignorance--to fancy, to believe, to hope-- BART. (_surprised_). Miss Templeton! JULIA. I now understand this anxiety to dispose of my hand--this crowd of admirers thrown in my way! What mattered _my_ feelings--_my_ happiness? I was an obstacle to be removed! (_with increasing excitement_). BART. I implore you-- JULIA (_stamping her foot_). Silence, sir! _Enter MRS. TEMPLETON hurriedly at R. H._ MRS. T. What is the matter here? Julia! what means this excitement--this agitation? Perhaps you, sir (_to BARTON_)-- BART. I am as much surprised as yourself, madam! I ventured to confide to Miss Julia my pretensions to the hand of her sister-- MRS. T. (_with a scream_). What! You had the _cruelty,_ the _barbarity_ to make such an avowal to her elder sister? (_advancing upon BARTON, who retreats_)--to lacerate her feelings! to wound her pride! JULIA. Yes, that's it!--to wound my pride! BART. But really-- MRS. T. Silence, young man! I remember what _my_ feelings were when my younger sister was married before me. I was choking, sir! suffocating, sir! I turned positively purple! all sorts of colors, sir! And here is a little pert, forward chit, daring to follow her Aunt Dorothy Jane's example!--but here she comes. (_Enter COLONEL from R. H., and JOSEPHINE from L. H._) So, miss (_advancing angrily on JOSEPHINE_), a pretty account I've heard of you! To mix yourself up at _your_ age in a silly romance--a nonsensical love-intrigue-- COL. (_interfering_). But, my dear Martha-- MRS. T. (_turning sharply on him_). Hold _your_ tongue, Cousin Samuel! JOSEPHINE. But, aunt, if you'll only allow me-- MRS. T. But I _won't_ allow you! (_To JULIA._) Keep up your spirits, poor persecuted victim!