DAM. And if we do come together, we'll strive all in our power to make each other miserable. MISS MAC. I'll do my best, be assured. DAM. Thwart each other in every thing. MISS MAC. If you want to walk, I'll insist upon riding. DAM. Agreed! MISS MAC. When you want to be silent, I'll talk you to death. DAM. Agreed! MISS MAC. And annoy you night and day in every possible manner--think of nothing else---- DAM. Excellent! MISS MAC. Study nothing else. DAM. Delicious! There's my hand, whatever you are--whoever you may be--whatever your character, there's my hand. MISS MAC. And there, sir, is mine. _(Presenting her hand.)_ DAM. Fright! MISS MAC. Brute! DAM. A kiss? MISS MAC. No. DAM. Yes. The first and the last. MISS MAC. On that condition, there. [_She presents her cheek; DAMPER kisses her._ _NIGGLE runs on and stands in amazement._ NIG. _(Exclaims in surprise.)_ Damper! [_DAMPER and MISS MACAW sit looking at each other, with great ferocity, as the act drop descends._ END OF ACT II. ACT III. SCENE I.--_The cottage--same as first scene of second act--Chairs, tables as before._ _MISS MEADOWS, L. and CHESTER, R., discovered._ CHE. Now, Jessy, I think we clearly understand each other? MISS MEA. Perfectly. We agree to marry with a mystery hanging over each of us. My poor aunt and I, through our retired mode of living, are supposed to be very suspicious persons, and yet you are ready and willing to give me your hand, let me turn out to be what I may? CHE. For better or for worse, in every sense of the word. MISS MEA. And I undertake to be equally as rash in accepting you. CHE. We shall gain one point by this blind bargain--we are assured that we love one another for ourselves alone. MISS MEA. Ah! how charming is that assurance--and how miserable to possess wealth, attracting a train of suitors with not one sincere, disinterested heart amongst them. CHE. Poor as I am, an heiress is my aversion--not that money lowers the worth of woman; but that its worshippers pervert her understanding, harden her heart, and teach her a false estimate of herself. MISS MEA. Give me love in a cottage. CHE. Or a second floor in London, amongst several layers of lodgers. MISS MEA. Ah! charming. CHE. Two knocks and a ring for the artist--then to think of painting portraits of people so atrociously ugly, that it is more than one's poor half guinea is worth not to flatter them. To roam through Battersea or Walworth in search of the picturesque, till a stroke of fortune promotes one to the situation of drawing master to some suburban academy. MISS MEA. Oh, delightful! to walk twenty miles twice a week for as many pounds per annum. And what must _I_ do? _I_ must not be idle--I'll commence milliner--trim caps--fabricate flounces, and wait upon fantastical ladies with patterns of the last new toque--and with my needlework and your painting--my industry and your enthusiasm--we shall be happy--I am sure we shall! _Enter MISS MACAW, F.E.L._