Lovew. My love!—How's this?—In tears?—Indeed this is too much. You promiſed me to ſupport your ſpirits, and to wait the determination of our fortune with patience.—For my ſake, for your own, be comforted! Why will you ſtudy to add to our uneaſineſs and perplexity?

Fanny. Oh, Mr. Lovewell! The indelicacy of a ſecret marriage grows every day more and more ſhocking to me. I walk about the houſe like a guilty wretch: I imagine myſelf the object of the ſuſpicion of the whole family; and am under the perpetual terrors of a ſhameful detection.

Lovew. Indeed, indeed, you are to blame. The amiable delicacy of your temper, and your quick ſenſibility, only ſerve to make you unhappy.—To clear up this affair properly to Mr. Sterling, is the continual employment of my thoughts. Every thing now is in a