_Miss T._ Safe! Ah, Belvawney, my own own Belvawney--there is, I fear, no safety for us so long as we are liable to be overtaken by that fearful Major to whom I was to have been married this morning! _Bel._ Major McGillicuddy? I confess I do not feel comfortable when I think of Major McGillicuddy. _Miss T._ You know his barbaric nature, and how madly jealous he is. If he should find that I have eloped with you he will most surely shoot us both! _Bel._ It is an uneasy prospect. (_Suddenly._) Belinda, do you love me? _Miss T._ With an impetuous passion that I shall carry with me to the tomb! _Bel._ Then be mine to-morrow! We are not far from Gretna, and the thing can be done without delay. Once married, the arm of the law will protect us from this fearful man, and we can defy him to do his worst. _Miss T._ Belvawney, all this is quite true. I love you madly, passionately; I care to live but in your heart, I breathe but for your love; yet, before I actually consent to take the irrevocable step that will place me on the pinnacle of my fondest hopes, you must give me some definite idea of your pecuniary position. I am not mercenary, Heaven knows; but business is business, and I confess I should like a little definite information about the settlements. _Bel._ I often think that it is deeply to be deplored that these grovelling questions of money should alloy the tenderest and most hallowed sentiments that inspire our imperfect natures. _Miss T._ It is unfortunate, no doubt, but at the same time it is absolutely necessary. _Bel._ Belinda, I will be frank with you. My income is £1000 a year, which I hold on certain conditions. You know my friend Cheviot Hill, who is travelling to London in the same train with us, but in the third class? _Miss T._ I believe I know the man you mean. _Bel._ Cheviot, who is a young man of large property, but extremely close-fisted, is cursed with a strangely amatory disposition, as you will admit when I tell you that he has contracted a habit of proposing marriage, as a matter of course, to every woman he meets. His haughty father (who comes of a very old family--the Cheviot Hills had settled in this part of the world centuries before the Conquest) is compelled by his health to reside in Madeira. Knowing that I exercise an all but supernatural influence over his son, and fearing that his affectionate disposition would lead him to contract an undesirable marriage, the old gentleman allows me £1000 a year so long as Cheviot shall live single, but at his death or marriage the money goes over to Cheviot’s uncle Symperson, who is now travelling to town with him. _Miss T._ Then so long as your influence over him lasts, so long only will you retain your income? _Bel._ That is, I am sorry to say, the state of the case.