'That I am neither vain enough to believe,' answered Mr. Trueworth, 'nor ambitious enough to desire, such a thing should be real.'--'How!' cried Sir Bazil, in some surprize; 'why, she is reckoned one of the finest women in town; has wit, good-nature; is of a good family, and an unblemished reputation. Then, her fortune! Though I know your estate sets you above wanting a fortune with a wife, yet I must tell you a fortune is a very pretty thing: children may come; and a younger brood must be provided for.' 'You argue very reasonably indeed,' replied Mr. Trueworth: 'but, pray,' pursued he, 'as you are so sensible of this lady's perfections, how happened it that you never made your addresses to her yourself?'--'I was not sure she would like me so well as she does you,' said he; 'besides, to let you into the secret, my heart was engaged before I ever saw her face, and my person had been so too by this time, but for an unlucky rub in my way.' 'What! Sir Bazil, honourably in love!' cried Mr. Trueworth. 'Aye, Charles! There is no resisting destiny,' answered he; 'I that have ranged through half the sex in search of pleasure; doated on the beauty of one, the wit of another, admired by turn their different charms, have at last found one in whom all I could wish in woman is comprized, and to whom I an unalterably fixed, beyond, even, I think, a possibility of change.' 'May I be trusted with the name of this admirable person', said Mr. Trueworth, 'and what impedes your happiness?'--'You shall know all,' replied Sir Bazil: 'in the first place, she is called Miss Mable.'--'What! Miss Mable of Bury Street!' cried Mr. Trueworth hastily. 'The same,' replied Sir Bazil: 'you know her, then?'--'I have seen her,' said Mr. Trueworth, 'in company with a lady I visited some time ago; and believe she is, in reality, the original of that amiable picture you have been drawing.' 'It rejoices me, however, that you approve my choice,' said Sir Bazil: 'but her father is, without exception, the most sordid, avaricious wretch, breathing; he takes more pleasure in counting over his bags than in the happiness of an only child; he seems glad of an alliance with me--encourages my pretensions to his daughter--is ready to give her to me to-morrow, if I please: yet refuses to part with a single shilling of her portion till he can no longer keep it; that is, he will secure to me ten thousand pounds after his decease; and adds, by way of cajole, that, perhaps, he will then throw in a better penny; but is positively determined to make no diminution of his substance while he lives. These,' continued he, 'are the only terms on which he will give his consent; and this it is which has so long delayed my marriage.'