SIR CHARLES. Here, behind this screen. HARD. Ay, ay, make no noise. I'll engage my Kate covers him with confusion at last. MARL. By heavens, madam, fortune was ever my smallest consideration. Your beauty at first caught my eye; for who could see that without emotion? But every moment that I converse with you, steals in some new grace, heightens the picture, and gives it stronger expression. What at first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now strikes me as the result of courageous innocence and conscious virtue. SIR CHARLES. What can it mean? He amazes me! HARD. I told you how it would be. Hush! MARL. I am now determined to stay, madam; and I have too good an opinion of my father's discernment, when he sees you, to doubt his approbation. MISS HARD. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot detain you. Do you think I could suffer a connexion in which there is the smallest room for repentance? Do you think I would take the mean advantage of a transient passion, to load you with confusion? Do you think I could ever relish that happiness which was acquired by lessening yours? MARL. By all that's good, I can have no happiness but what's in your power to grant me. Nor shall I ever feel repentance, but in not having seen your merits before. I will stay, even contrary to your wishes; and though you should persist to shun me, I will make my respectful assiduities atone for the levity of my past conduct. MISS HARD. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indifference. I might have given an hour or two to levity; but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I could ever submit to a connexion where _I_ must appear mercenary, and _you_ imprudent? Do you think I could ever catch at the confident addresses of a secure admirer? MARL. (_Kneeling._) Does this look like security? Does this look like confidence? No, madam; every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let me continue— SIR CHARLES. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your indifference, your uninteresting conversation? HARD. Your cold contempt; your formal interview? What have you to say now? [Illustration: MARLOW.—"_Does this look like security?_"—_p._ 374. ] MARL. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean? HARD. It means, that you can say and unsay things at pleasure. That you can address a lady in private, and deny it in public; that you have one story for us, and another for my daughter. MARL. Daughter!—this lady your daughter! HARD. Yes, sir, my only daughter. My Kate, whose else should she be? MARL. Oh, the devil!