W._ This is too much for my weak nerves. I leave you, sir
Willoughby, to arrange this affair, while I hasten to attend to my
domestic duties.

_Sir W._ (_aside to lady W._) That's right; you'd better leave her to
me. I'll manage her, I warrant. Let me assist you--there--I'll soon
settle this business. (_Hands lady Worret off._)

_Helen._ Now, my dear papa, are you really of the same opinion as her
ladyship?

_Sir W._ Exactly.

_Helen._ Ha! ha! lud! but that's comical. What! both think alike?

_Sir W._ Precisely.

_Helen._ That's very odd. I believe it's the first time you've agreed in
opinion since you were made one: but I'm quite sure you never can wish
me to marry a man I do not love.

_Sir W._ Why no, certainly not; but you _will_ love him; indeed you
_must_. It's my wife's wish, you know, and so I wish it of course. Come,
come, in this one trifling matter you must oblige us.

_Helen._ Well, as _you_ think it only a trifling matter, and as I think
it of importance enough to make me miserable, I'm sure _you'll_ give up
the point.

_Sir W._ Why no, you are mistaken. To be sure I _might_ have given it
up; but my lady Worret, you know--but that's no matter. Marriage is a
duty, and tis incumbent on parents to see their children settled in that
_happy_ state.

_Helen._ Have _you_ found that state _so happy_, sir?

_Sir W._ Why--yes--that is--hey? happy! certainly. Doesn't every body
say so? and what every body says _must_ be true. However, that's not to
the purpose. A connexion with the family of lord Austencourt is
particularly desirable.

_Helen._ Not to _me_, I assure you, papa.

_Sir W._ Our estates join so charmingly to one another.

_Helen._ But sure that's no reason _we_ should be joined to one another.

_Sir W._ But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage
between you.

_Helen._ Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me
a separate maintenance.

_Sir. W._ Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady
Worret's wishes. Zounds! you don't see me disobedient to her wishes; but
I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young
fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has
filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness.
Thank Heaven, however, he's far enough off at sea.

_Helen._ And _I_ think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles
abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to tho