_MATILDA O’FIPP discovered working, WHIPPLE on a stool at her feet._ _Whi._ My darling Matilda, who was it who said the course of true love never did run smooth? Are not our loves true? And could anything be smoother than their course during the last three months? _Mat._ No, dear, savin’ that when ye proposed for me, papa kicked ye out of the house. _Whi._ He did, in the effusion of the moment, and I honour him for it! On his unexpected accession to wealth he naturally looked for a wealthy and well-born son-in-law, and I honour him for it! But the doughty old soldier was open to reason, and when I proved to him that his wealth depended on my secrecy, he admitted his error at once, like a frank old warrior as he is, and I honour him for it! _Mat._ Poor Tom! I wonder what’s come of him all this while? It’s three months since he---- _Whi._ Died. _Mat._ Died, and I’ve never heard a word from him since. _Whi._ Then he can’t complain if you’ve been inconstant. _Mat._ ’Deed, and he can’t. It’s clear a young girl must marry somebody. It’s nature. _Enter O’FIPP._ _Whi._ Of course it is, and if he truly loves you--really and truly loves you as I do, he ought to be delighted when he comes back to find that you’ve engaged yourself to a gentleman in every way his superior. _O’Fi._ Deloighted when he comes back? Divil a bit! By razin that he won’t come back any more! _Mat._ Won’t come back any more? _O’Fi._ Not he. Isn’t he dead, and haven’t we buried him, and paid his debts, and proved his will, and stuck up a tombstone that he’d blush to read. Sure, it’ll be in the highest degree ondacent in him to give the lie to a tombstone! _Whi._ But Tom never had any tact--and if he _should_ be guilty of the indiscretion of turning up---- _O’Fi._ Well, sorr, if he should, I shall be prepared to admit that I’ve acted under a misconception. But, sorr, before I yield possession of the estate which has so miraculously come into my hands, I shall satisfy meself beyond all doubt that I am not dealin’ with an imposthor. Any one who assumes to be the late Tom Cobb will have to establish his identity beyond all manner of doubt. And as I’ve paid Mr. Ben Isaacs and his other creditors conditionally on his being dead, he may find that difficult, sorr,--he may find that difficult. [_Exit O’FIPP._ _Mat._ Well, Tom Cobb may be dead, but when he finds out the use that’s been made of his will, he’ll not rest in his grave, I’m thinking, that’s all! _Whi._ But if he _should_ return--if Tom Cobb’s shade _should_ take it into his ghostly head to revisit the scenes of his earthly happiness--promise me that you will treat him with the cold respect due to a disembodied spirit. _Mat._ But when d’ye think he’ll come?