CHE. I was, and immediately turned portrait painter; for I drew your features upon my heart the first moment I gazed upon them. MISS MEA. And since that moment you have visited this place once every fortnight? CHE. Being all the leisure I can afford--otherwise my whole life should be passed here, could I but command your sweet society. MISS MEA. During your absence we have been imprudent enough to correspond, and the result is, that we have written and talked ourselves into love. CHE. And when a young gentleman and lady set about mutually confessing all their thoughts and feelings, their likes and dislikes, their hopes and fears, what other result could be expected? MISS MEA. And yet a strange fancy continually haunts me, that in all our candid confessions you conceal _something_ from me. I cannot bring myself to believe that I am in possession of every thought, feeling, or circumstance belonging to you. CHE. Even there a sympathy exists between us--_I_ am troubled with precisely the same fancy. MISS MEA. You think that I practice some little concealment respecting myself? CHE. I confess that I do. MISS MEA. What can it be? CHE. Ah! what can it be? Perhaps immediate matrimony will remove the mistrust. MISS MEA. If you _will_ marry me, you know what you are to expect. I have no friend but my aunt--you see me as you first knew me, a half-educated country miss. I think I have a good heart. I know I have an indifferent temper--right management may certainly do much to correct that fault--I am very whimsical, very lazy, want a deal of attention, and can go into something like a passion when offended! CHE. You don't flatter yourself. MISS MEA. I wish you to anticipate the worst, so that if you should find me not so bad as expected, the surprise may be the more agreeable to you. If you _do_ marry me, it must be entirely for myself. Now if you persist in your intention, all that I can say is, that you are indeed a bold man! CHE. I will be equally as candid with you. You do not reject my offered hand? MISS MEA. No. CHE. Then if you accept me, you will marry a poor artist, who is entirely dependent on his own exertions--who likes retirement, has no care for company--who wants to be petted when he complains--his every whim indulged--who cannot endure contradiction--and, with very inferior capabilities, wishes ever to be thought most superior in all things--but one who, amidst this chaos of fault, can still create a little world of love for you! MISS MEA. After such a confession, I must be quite as bold a woman as you are a man, to take you--though when two people set about mutually confessing their faults, there may be some hope that they intend to correct them. CHE. Corrected or not, are you content? MISS MEA. I am; and there is my hand to the bargain. CHE. And this kiss upon its white fingers, ratifies the contract! [_CHESTER kisses her hand--she in return presses his hand to her lips._ _MISS MACAW enters._