_Sir W._ _Finish whatever you begin._--Good beginnings, it is said, make good endings, but great beginnings often make little endings, or, in this country, no endings at all. _Finis coronat opta_--and that crown is wanting wherever I turn my eyes. Of the hundred magnificent things your munificent father began-- _Clara._ (_interrupting_) Oh, sir, spare my father!--I promise you that _I_ will finish whatever I begin. What’s your next command? _Sir W._ Promise me that you will never make a promise to a tenant, nor any agreement about business, but in writing--and empower me to say that you will never keep any verbal promise about business--then, none such will ever be claimed. _Clara._ I promise you--Stay!--this is a promise about business: I must give it to you in writing. [_Miss O’HARA sits down to a writing-table, and writes._ _Sir W._ (_looking out of the window_) I hope I have been early enough in giving this my second piece of advice, worth a hundred sequins--for I see the yard is crowded with gray-coated suitors, and the table here is already covered with letters and petitions. _Clara._ Yes, uncle, but I have not read half of them yet. [_Presents the written promise to Sir WILLIAM._ _Sir W._ Thank you, my dear; and you will be thankful to me for this when I am dead and gone. _Clara._ And whilst you are alive and here, if you please, uncle. Now, sir, since you are so kind to say that your time is at my disposal, will you have the goodness to come with me to these gray-coated suitors, and let us give answers to these poor petitioners, who, “as in duty bound, will ever pray.” [_Takes up a bundle of papers._ _Sir W._ (_taking a letter from his pocket_) First, my dear niece, I must add to the number. I have a little business. A petition to present from a _protégé_ of mine. _Clara._ A protégé of yours!--Then it is granted, whatever it be. _Sir W._ (_smiling_) Recollect your promise, Clara. _Clara._ Oh, true--it must be in writing. [_She goes hastily to the writing-table, and takes up a pen._ _Sir W._ Read before you write, my dear--I insist upon it. _Clara._ Oh, sir, when it is a request of yours, how can I grant it soon enough? But it shall be done in the way you like best--slowly--deliberately--(_opening the letter_)--in minuet time. And I will look before I leap--and I’ll read before I write. (_She reads the signature._) Gilbert! Honest Gilbert, how glad I shall be to do any thing for you, independently of your master! (_Reads on, suddenly lets the letter drop, and clasps her hands._) Sir--Uncle, my dear uncle, how unfortunate I am! Why did, not you ask me an hour ago?--Within this hour I have promised the new inn to another person. _Sir W._ Indeed!--that is unfortunate. My poor Gilbert will be sadly disappointed. _Clara._ How vexed I am! But I never should have thought of Gilbert for the inn: I fancied he disliked Ireland so much that he would never have settled here.