whom this letter is directed? (Motioning her to go as she is about to speak.) Away, away! Tell me no more lies: I'll take care of this letter.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE V.
The Butler's Room.
EnterDickensonwith a Paper in his Hand, which he looks upon ruefully.
DICKENSON.
Ay, this was the state of the cellar: what it will be soon, if all these palavering people, with their improvements and philosophy, stay much longer in the house, the Lord knows! That good bin of claret is melting away most piteously. Who's there?
EnterCharville.
My master. I beg your honour's pardon.
CHARVILLE.
Hush! Let me be here for a little while.
DICKENSON.
What is the matter, Sir? you are very pale.
CHARVILLE.
Nothing, nothing. Watch on the outside of the door, and prevent any body coming in: there is not a room in my own house where I can be at peace for a few minutes to read a letter.
