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PROVOST (pulling a letter hastily from his pocket).

Madam, sit down; I'll cast mine eyes again

O'er this your father's letter. Pray sit down!

I may not see you thus. (Setting a chair with much courtesy, and obliging her to sit, whilst he goes aside and reads a letter earnestly. He then returns to her.)

My friend has many words of courtesy;

It is his habit; but subtracting from them
The plain unvarnish'd sense, and thereto adding
What, from this secret journey of your brother,
May be inferr'd,—the real truth is this—
At least it so appears to my poor reason—
(Preventing her as she rises from her seat.)
Nay, sit, I pray you. Lady Auchinmore;
We'll talk this matter over thoroughly,
And leave no bashful doubts hid in a corner,
For lack of honest courage to produce them.
(Sits down by her.)

MARIAN.

Proceed, good Sir, I listen earnestly.

PROVOST.

As it appears to me, the truth is this,

That Malcolm, whom your father doth admit,
Albeit a great admirer of my daughter,
To be at present somewhat disinclined
To give up youthful liberty so early,
As he from more acquaintance with her virtues