of speaking identified; and indeed it was the Dook's
desire alone that brought us here.

BARBARA. What? the Duke? O dear! was it for that?

MENTEITH. Though, to be sure, madam, Mr. George would always be charmed
to find himself (_bowing_) among so many admired members of his own set.

MISS FOSTER. Upon my word, Menteith, Mr. Austin is as fortunate in his
servant as his reputation.

MENTEITH. Quite so, madam. But let me observe that the opportunities I
have had of acquiring a knowledge of Mr. George's character have been
positively unrivalled. Nobody knows Mr. George like his old attendant.
The goodness of that gentleman--but, madam, you will soon be equally
fortunate, if, as I understand, it is to be a match.

MISS FOSTER. I hope, Menteith, you are not taking leave of your senses.
Is it possible you mean my niece?

MENTEITH. Madam, I have the honour to congratulate you. I put a second
curl in Mr. George's hair on purpose.

SCENE II

_To these, AUSTIN. MENTEITH falls back, and AUSTIN takes his place in
front of MISS FOSTER, his attitude a counterpart of MENTEITH'S_

AUSTIN. Madam, I hasten to present my homage.

MISS FOSTER. A truce to compliments; Menteith, your charming fellow
there, has set me positively crazy. Dear George Austin, is it true? Can
it be true?

AUSTIN. Madam, if he has been praising your niece he has been well
inspired. If he was speaking, as I spoke an hour ago myself, I wish,
Miss Foster, that he had held his tongue. I have indeed offered myself
to Miss Dorothy, and she, with the most excellent reason, has refused
me.

MISS FOSTER. Is it possible? why, my dear George Austin, ... then I
suppose it is John Fenwick after all?

AUSTIN. Not one of us is worthy.

MISS FOSTER. This is the most amazing circumstance. You take my breath
away. My niece refuse George Austin? why, I give you my word, I thought
she had adored you. A perfect scandal: it positively must not get
abroad.

AUSTIN. Madam, for that young lady I have a singular regard. Judge me as
tenderly as you can, and set it down, if you must, to an old man's
vanity--for, Evelina, we are no longer in the heyday of our youth--judge
me as you will: I should prefer to have it known.

MISS FOSTER. Can you? George Austin, you? My youth was nothing; I was a
failure; but for you? no, George, you never can, you never must be old.
You are the triumph of my generation, George, and of our old friendship
too. Think of my first dance a