_Mr. Chainmail_.—I wish, if I may be permitted, to explain myself to you. Yet could I first wish to know what it was that disturbed you in this unlucky paper. Happy should I be if I could remove the cause of your inquietude! _Miss Susannah_.—The cause is already removed. I saw something that excited painful recollections; nothing that I could now wish otherwise than as it is. _Mr. Chainmail_.—Yet, may I ask why it is that I find one so accomplished living in this obscurity, and passing only by the name of Miss Susan? _Miss Susannah_.—The world and my name are not friends. I have left the world, and wish to remain for ever a stranger to all whom I once knew in it. _Mr. Chainmail_.—You can have done nothing to dishonour your name. _Miss Susannah_.—No, sir. My father has done that of which the world disapproves, in matters of which I pretend not to judge. I have suffered for it as I will never suffer again. My name is my own secret: I have no other, and that is one not worth knowing. You see what I am, and all I am. I live according to the condition of my present fortune, and here, so living, I have found tranquillity. _Mr. Chainmail_.—Yet, I entreat you, tell me your name. _Miss Susannah_.—Why, sir? _Mr. Chainmail_.—Why, but to throw my hand, my heart, my fortune, at your feet, if—. _Miss Susannah_.—If my name be worthy of them. _Mr. Chainmail_.—Nay, nay, not so; if your hand and heart are free. _Miss Susannah_.—My hand and heart are free; but they must be sought from myself, and not from my name. She fixed her eyes on him, with a mingled expression of mistrust, of kindness, and of fixed resolution, which the far-gone _inamorato_ found irresistible. _Mr. Chainmail_.—Then from yourself alone I seek them. _Miss Susannah_.—Reflect. You have prejudices on the score of parentage. I have not conversed with you so often without knowing what they are. Choose between them and me. I too have my own prejudices on the score of personal pride. _Mr. Chainmail_.—I would choose you from all the world, were you even the daughter of the _exécuteur des hautes œuvres_, as the heroine of a romantic story I once read turned out to be. _Miss Susannah_.—I am satisfied. You have now a right to know my history, and if you repent, I absolve you from all obligations.