(MISS PHOEBE _presses the words to her heart and then drops them._) PHOEBE. Beautiful. La, Aunt Phoebe! VALENTINE. Ah, ma'am, you may laugh at a rough soldier so much enamoured, but 'tis true. 'Marry me, Miss Phoebe,' I will say, 'and I will take you back through those years of hardships that have made your sweet eyes too patient. Instead of growing older you shall grow younger. We will travel back together to pick up the many little joys and pleasures you had to pass by when you trod that thorny path alone.' PHOEBE. Can't be--can't be. VALENTINE. Nay, Miss Phoebe has loved me. 'Tis you have said it. PHOEBE. I did not mean to tell you. VALENTINE. She will be my wife yet. PHOEBE. Never. VALENTINE. You are severe, Miss Livvy. But it is because you are partial to her, and I am happy of that. PHOEBE (_in growing horror of herself_). I partial to her! I am laughing at both of you. Miss Phoebe. La, that old thing. VALENTINE (_sternly_). Silence! PHOEBE. I hate her and despise her. If you knew what she is---- (_He stops her with a gesture._) VALENTINE. I know what you are. PHOEBE. That paragon who has never been guilty of the slightest deviation from the strictest propriety. VALENTINE. Never. PHOEBE. That garden---- VALENTINE. Miss Livvy, for shame. PHOEBE. Your garden has been destroyed, sir; the weeds have entered it, and all the flowers are choked. VALENTINE. You false woman, what do you mean? PHOEBE. I will tell you. (_But his confidence awes her._) What faith you have in her. VALENTINE. As in my God. Speak. PHOEBE. I cannot tell you. VALENTINE. No, you cannot. PHOEBE. It is too horrible. VALENTINE. You are too horrible. Is not that it? PHOEBE. Yes, that is it. (MISS SUSAN _has entered and caught the last words._) MISS SUSAN (_shrinking as from a coming blow_). What is too horrible? VALENTINE. Ma'am, I leave the telling of it to her, if she dare. And I devoutly hope those are the last words I shall ever address to this lady. (_He bows and goes out in dudgeon_. MISS SUSAN _believes all is discovered and that_ MISS PHOEBE _is for ever shamed._) MISS SUSAN (_taking_ PHOEBE _in her arms_). My love, my dear, what terrible thing has he said to you? PHOEBE (_forgetting everything but that she is loved_). Not terrible--glorious! Susan, 'tis Phoebe he loves, 'tis me, not Livvy! He loves me, he loves me! Me--Phoebe! (MISS SUSAN'S _bosom swells. It is her great hour as much as_ PHOEBE'S.) _End of Act III._ ACT IV THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM