HARD. Bravely resolved! In the meantime I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster. _Exit._ MISS HARDCASTLE, _sola_. MISS HARD. Lud, this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young—handsome: these he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible—good-natured: I like all that. But then—reserved, and sheepish: that's much against him. Yet, can't he be cur'd of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes; and can't I—But, I vow, I'm disposing of the husband, before I have secured the lover. _Enter_ MISS NEVILLE. MISS HARD. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance: how do I look this evening? Is there anything whimsical about me? Is it one of my well-looking days, child? Am I in face to-day? MISS NEV. Perfectly, my dear. Yet, now I look again—bless me!—sure no accident has happened among the canary birds, or the gold fishes. Has your brother or the cat been meddling? Or, has the last novel been too moving? MISS HARD. No; nothing of all this. I have been threatened—I can scarce get it out—I have been threatened with a lover. MISS NEV. And his name— MISS HARD. Is Marlow. MISS NEV. Indeed! MISS HARD. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. MISS NEV. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings, _my_ admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him when we lived in town. MISS HARD. Never. MISS NEV. He's a very singular character, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue, he is the modestest man alive; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among creatures of another stamp: you understand me. MISS HARD. An odd character, indeed. I shall never be able to manage him. What shall I do? Pshaw, think no more of him, but trust to occurrences for success. But how goes on your own affair, my dear? has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual! MISS NEV. I have just come from one of our agreeable tête-à-têtes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection. [Illustration: TONY.—"_Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song._"—_p._ 330. ] MISS HARD. And her partiality is such, that she actually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation. Besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family. MISS NEV. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But, at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another. MISS HARD. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so.