Chapter VII

Abstract After parting with her lover, at the edge of the wood, Dorcasina, “gracious, mild and good,” (her displeasure at Betty’s last night’s freedom, being entirely swallowed up in the immensity of her present love and happiness) leaning on the faithful creature’s arm, gave her a particular account of all that had passed; at the conclusion of which, she said, “And would you believe me, Betty? He downright kissed me; and not my cheek, but my lips!” Poor Betty, uneasy and distressed, remained for some time, thoughtful and silent; while her mistress, totally unmindful of her sadness, ran on, in the most extravagant manner, in the praise of O’Connor, saying, that she had, at last, been so fortunate as to meet with her kindred soul; that he was the most modest, most engaging, and perfect of mankind; that her bliss would be complete in an union with him; and, that nothing on this side heaven would be capable of adding to her felicity, when once she should become his wife. Betty, indignant at hearing her mistress express herself in this enthusiastic manner, at length, broke silence. “Then you mean to marry him, ma’am; and not let your father know nothing at all about it!” “Heaven forbid! Betty, that I should be guilty of such an act of ingratitude to the best and most indulgent of parents. But my dear father cannot possibly have any objection to Mr.O’Connor, when he comes to know him as well as I do. He is waiting only for some letters from Philadelphia, to present himself before him; and I am so far from entertaining any doubt of his consent, that I am certain he will rejoice in his daughter’s happy prospects.” “Well, ma’am, I hope every thing will turn out to your heart’s content; for I am sure, I wishes for your happiness as much as for my own.