shall I feel!

WAITWELL.

Pain, Miss! but pleasant pain.

SARA.

Be silent! (_begins reading to herself_).

WAITWELL (_aside_).

Oh! If he could see her himself!

SARA (_after reading a few moments_).

Ah, Waitwell, what a father! He calls my flight "an absence." How much
more culpable it becomes through this gentle word! (_continues reading
and interrupts herself again_). Listen! he flatters himself I shall
love him still. He flatters himself! He begs me--he begs me? A father
begs his daughter? his culpable daughter? And what does he beg then? He
begs me to forget his over-hasty severity, and not to punish him any
longer with my absence. Over-hasty severity! To punish! More still! Now
he thanks me even, and thanks me that I have given him an opportunity
of learning the whole extent of paternal love. Unhappy opportunity!
Would that he also said it had shown him at the same time the extent of
filial disobedience. No, he does not say it! He does not mention my
crime with one single word. (_Continues reading_.) He will come himself
and fetch his children. His children, Waitwell! that surpasses
everything! Have I read it rightly? (_reads again to herself_) I am
overcome! He says, that he without whom he could not possess a daughter
deserves but too well to be his son. Oh that he had never had this
unfortunate daughter! Go, Waitwell, leave me alone! He wants an answer,
and I will write it at once. Come again in an hour! I thank you
meanwhile for your trouble. You are an honest man. Few servants are the
friends of their masters!

WAITWELL.

Do not make me blush, Miss! If all masters were like Sir William,
servants would be monsters, if they would not give their lives for
them. (_Exit_.)

Scene IV.

SARA (_sits down to write_).

If they had told me a year ago that I should have to answer such a
letter! And under such circumstances! Yes, I have the pen in my hand.
But do I know yet what I shall write? What I think; what I feel. And
what then does one think when a thousand thoughts cross each other in
one moment? And what does one feel, when the heart is in a stupor from
a thousand feelings. But I must write! I do not guide the pen for the
first time. After assisting me in so many a little act of politeness
and friendship