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THE ALIENATED MANOR: A COMEDY.

173

MARY.

No; she is fond of painting butterflies, you know.

CHARVILLE.

So it seems, so it seems. (Striding away, and pacing round the Stage with his eyes fixed upon Sir Robert and Mrs. Charville, till he gets close behind them, while they move towards the front.)

MRS. CHARVILLE (continuing to speak as she and Freemantle come forward).

But that kind is larger, and speckled like a wilding's egg, or a cowry, or the back of a trout, so pretty, and so minute.

CHARVILLE (thrusting his head between them).

My Love, you are too minute. You forget that Mr. Crafton is waiting for Sir Robert.

MRS. CHARVILLE.

Bless me! is your face there? I thought you were on the other side of us.

FREEMANTLE.

I am just going. Sir.

CHARVILLE.

O! Sir Robert, I beg that you will not go sooner than——Mr. Crafton, I know, is apt to be impatient.

MRS. CHARVILLE.

And you have a fellow-feeling for him.