MISS SNA. Nay, nay, the case is not so bad as you suppose it to be, though I have a similar letter in my possession, it is not from Mr. Pinkey.
MISS SKY. I don't understand you--pray explain.
MISS SNA. _(Taking a small book from her pocket.)_ You see this book--look at its title.
MISS SKY. _(Reading.)_ "The Complete Letter Writer."
MISS SNA. Mr. Pinkey's despairing epistle is copied word for word, from that book.
MISS SKY. Copied from this book. Oh! the little amatory plagiarist!
MISS SNA. Look and be convinced--turn to page 20.
MISS SKY. _(Reading.)_ "Dear object!"--here it is--even "seared and desolate" isn't his own. Was there ever such impertinence--Oh! I'm in such a rage, if he were here I'd fling all his paltry letters in his face. _(Turning over the leaves of the book.)_ Here they all are--"Loveliest of women"--"fly on the wings of love"--"meet my charmer"--"happy in her embraces for ever." Here they all are word for word. How much did the book cost?
MISS SKY. His despairing letters! his ardent letters! his reasonable letters! his polite letters! all, all copied from this book. And is it possible that so much despair, so much ardour, so much reason, so much politeness could have cost him but eighteen-pence; when I had fondly imagined they had cost him tears, and lonely hours of agony, and sighs and groans.--Oh! the little monster, if I could meet him now, I'd make him stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by his letters; I'd then set fire to them, and see him perish a martyr to his cool duplicity.
MISS SKY. Is he? I'll let him know that my affections are not to be obtained under false pretences.
_Re-enter PINKEY with a paper in his hand, F.E.L._
PIN. It's only me. I've got the speech. _(Aside.)_ There's the old lady come, Miss Snare, and her neice that lives with her; you asked them here you know to find out who they are. And the strange young man, that nobody can learn what he can be, is here, too. The ladies were asking for you, and I said I'd find you for them.
MISS SNA. You're very kind, I'll go to them directly. What do you think?--the young man that I have watched walking in the fields, every now and then, with the neice of the old maid at the cottage, and that we suspect is related to Miss Coy, is actually come here to tea this evening.