_Hiram._ What's the matter? You ask _me_? Matter, what's the mattie? I mean Wattie, matts the water? Oh, pshaw! I can't speak. My tongue is paralyzed. False woman! you have shattered the shrine of affection in this bosom. Young lady, you have burst the bonds of devotion. Young maiden, you have lacerated my heart, crushed my soul, blasted my hopes, destroyed my—my—Go, deceitful maid! After my long devotion, oh! this is too much, after all I have done for you. Oh! (_Tears hair._) _Mattie._ Well, what have you done for me? _Hiram._ Eh! well, what I was going to do for you,—marry you. To see you fondly reclining upon the bosom of another, another's arm about your waist,—oh, this is torture! madness! (_Tears his hair, and rushes about stage._) Mattie Trueworth, you are a cartless hoquette; no, a— _Mattie._ You got the cart before the horse that time, Hiram. How silly you are! It's all a mistake. _Hiram_ (_coolly_). Oh! it's a mistake: I'm glad of that; so let's kiss and make up. (_Approaching her._) _Mattie._ Stop! you have opened my eyes. You saw his arm about my waist. Then he loves me. Oh, joy! rapture! bliss! _Hiram._ Why, Mattie! you don't mean, you can't mean, you can't be so mean as to say you love Col. Rowell. _Mattie._ Why not? he's rich; he is the owner of Trueworth Farm; and I, I might be again its mistress. _Hiram._ Yes: but, Mattie, wh-wh-what's to become of me? _Mattie._ You? why, you unjustly suspected me; but then you opened my eyes. You have my thanks: all else is at an end between us. _Hiram._ Good gracious! I don't want your thanks. I wouldn't thank you for your thanks. I want _you_, Mattie. Come, let's make up (_coaxingly_). Now, do, Mattie, now, do. You ain't a-going to throw me over for that man? _Mattie._ Why, he owns Trueworth Farm. _Hiram_ (_aside_). Confound it! she means it. (_Aloud._) Hang Trueworth Farm! what's that to a heart filled with devotion! No, don't be hard on a feller. You know I love you. Come, let's make up. Do, now, do. _Mattie_ (_drawing herself up to her full length_). No, sir! You have trifled with me, and we must part. Seek another mate: be happy if you can. (_Imitating_ HIRAM'S _coaxing_.) Do, now, do. I wish you well: particularly, _fare_-well. (_Courtesies, and goes off_, L.) _Hiram_ (_looks after her_). Why! she's gone. She means it! Jealous of her? why, it's absurd! She might have known it. I only wanted to tease her into a reconciliation: these make-ups are so jolly! But she don't tease well; and now I've set her to setting her cap for Rowell. Pshaw! Humbug! the jealous game is all up. (_Enter_ CRIMP, L.)