_Miss B._ Yes; as soon as the contest was over Henry presented himself. I was surprised at seeing a young man so handsome and elegant as Henry is.--Then I placed the medal round Henry's neck, and was told, that poor Henry-- _Sir Philip._ Henry!--So, my love, this is your account of Mr. Robert Handy! _Miss B._ Yes, papa--no, papa--he came afterwards, dressed so ridiculously, that even Henry could not help smiling. _Sir Philip._ Henry again! _Miss B._ Then we had a dance. _Sir Philip._ Of course you danced with your lover? _Miss B._ Yes, papa. _Sir Philip._ How does Mr. Handy dance? _Miss B._ Oh! he did not dance till-- _Sir Philip._ You danced with your lover? _Miss B._ Yes--no papa!--Somebody said (I don't know who) that I ought to dance with Henry, because-- _Sir Philip._ Still Henry! Oh! some rustic boy. My dear child, you talk as if you loved this Henry. _Miss B._ Oh! no, papa--and I am certain he don't love me. _Sir Philip._ Indeed! _Miss B._ Yes, papa; for, when he touched my hand, he trembled as if I terrified him; and instead of looking at me as you do, who I am sure love me, when our eyes met, he withdrew his and cast them on the ground. _Sir Philip._ And these are the reasons, which make you conclude he does not love you? _Miss B._ Yes, papa. _Sir Philip._ And probably you could adduce proof equally convincing that you don't love him? _Miss B._ Oh, yes--quite; for in the dance he sometimes paid attention to other young women, and I was so angry with him! Now, you know, papa, I love you--and I am sure I should not have been angry with you had you done so. _Sir Philip._ But one question more--Do you think Mr. Handy loves you? _Miss B._ I have never thought about it, papa. _Sir Philip._ I am satisfied. _Miss B._ Yes, I knew I should convince you. _Sir Philip._ Oh, love; malign and subtle tyrant, how falsely art thou painted blind! 'tis thy votaries are so; for what but blindness can prevent their seeing thy poisoned shaft, which is for ever doomed to rankle in the victim's heart. _Miss B._ Oh! now I am certain I am not in love; for I feel no rankling at my heart. I feel the softest, sweetest sensation I ever experienced. But, papa, you must come to the lawn. I don't know why, but to-day nature seems enchanting; the birds sing more sweetly, and the flowers give more perfume. _Sir Philip._ [_Aside._] Such was the day my youthful fancy pictured!--How did it close! _Miss B._ I promised Henry your protection. _Sir Philip._ Indeed! that was much. Well I will see your rustic here. This infant passion must be crushed. Poor wench! some artless boy has caught thy youthful fancy.--Thy arm, my child. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _A Lawn before the Castle._ _Enter_ HENRY _and_ ASHFIELD. _Ash._ Well! here thee'rt going to make thy bow to Sir Philip. I zay, if he should take a fancy to thee, thou'lt come to farm, and zee us zometimes, wo'tn't, Henry?