_Dennis._ That's it: if he had chuck'd it away afterwards, I shou'dn't have wonder'd. _Mrs. Brul._ Here he comes again;--and, I declare, with a young woman leaning on his shoulder. _Dennis._ A young woman! let me have a bit of a peep. [_Looking out._] Och, the crater! Och, the-- _Mrs. Brul._ Heyday! I should'n't have thought of your peeping after a young woman, indeed! _Dennis._ Be asy, Mrs. Brulgruddery! it's a way we have in Ireland.--There's a face! _Mrs. Brul._ Well, and hav'n't I a face, pray? _Dennis._ That you have, my lambkin! You have had one these fifty years, I'll bound for you. _Mrs. Brul._ Fifty years! you are the greatest brute that ever dug potatoes. _Re-enter PEREGRINE, supporting MARY._ _Pereg._ This way. Cheer your spirits; the ruffian with whom I saw you struggling, has fled across the Heath; but his speed prevented my saving your property. Was your money, too, in the parcel with your clothes? _Mary._ All I possessed in the world, sir;--and he has so frighten'd me!--Indeed. I thank you, sir; indeed I do! _Pereg._ Come, come, compose yourself. Whither are you going, pretty one? _Mary._ I must not tell, sir. _Pereg._ Then whither do you come from? _Mary._ No body must know, sir. _Pereg._ Umph! Then your proceedings, child, are a secret? _Mary._ Yes, sir. _Pereg._ Yet you appear to need a friend to direct them. A heath is a rare place to find one: in the absence of a better, confide in me. _Mary._ You forget that you are a stranger, sir. _Pereg._ I always do--when the defenceless want my assistance. _Mary._ But, perhaps you might betray me, sir. _Pereg._ Never--by the honour of a man! _Mary._ Pray don't swear by that, sir! for, then, you'll betray me, I'm certain. _Pereg._ Have you ever suffered from treachery, then, poor innocence? _Mary._ Yes, sir. _Pereg._ And may not one of your own sex have been treacherous to you? _Mary._ No, sir; I'm very sure he was a man. _Dennis._ Oh, the blackguard! _Mrs. Brul._ Hold your tongue, do! _Pereg._ Listen to me, child. I would proffer you friendship, for your own sake--for the sake of benevolence. When ages, indeed, are nearly equal, nature is prone to breathe so warmly on the blossoms of a friendship between the sexes, that the fruit is desire; but time, fair one, is scattering snow on my temples, while Hebe waves her freshest ringlets over yours. Rely, then, on one who has numbered years sufficient to correct his passions; who has encountered difficulties enough to teach him sympathy; and who would stretch forth his hand to a wandering female, and shelter her like a father. _Mary._ Oh, sir! I do want protection sadly indeed! I am very miserable! [_Weeping._ _Pereg._ Come, do not droop. The cause of your distress, perhaps, is trifling; but, light gales of adversity will make women weep. A woman's tear falls like the dew that zephyrs shake from roses.--Nay, confide in me.