Jessie.  O, but I should like to hear the letter read, so much.

Joan.  Never mind.  Run along back to mother, there’s a sweet little maid.

Jessie.  I’d sooner stop with you now, you look so much kinder, like.

Clara. [Taking JESSIE’S hand and leading her to the door.] Now, Miss Jessie, your aunt must read her letter in quiet, but if you will come back presently I will have a game with you outside.

Jessie. [As she runs off.] Mother won’t let me talk with you any more, alone.  She says as you’ve made a fool of Georgie and you’ll do the same by us all.

Joan. [When Jessie has run off.] There now, how did I do that, mistress?

Clara.  Better, much better.

Joan.  ’Tis the feeling of one thing and the speaking of another, with you ladies and gentlemen.  So it appears to me.

Clara. [After a moment’s thought.] No.  It is not quite like that.  But ’tis, perhaps, the dressing up of an ugly feeling in better garments.

Joan. [Handing the letter to Clara.] There, mistress, ’tis yours, not mine.

Clara. [Glancing at it.] Lord Lovel’s writing. [Clara opens the letter and reads it through.] He will not wait longer for my answer.  And he is coming here as fast as horses can bring him.

Joan.  O, mistress, whatever shall we do?

Clara.  We had better own to everything at once.  It will save trouble in the end.

Joan.  Own to everything now, and lose all just as my hand was closing upon it, like!

Clara.  Poor Joan, it will not make any difference in the end, if the man loves you truly.

Joan.  Be kind and patient just to the evening, mistress.  Hooper is coming up to see me now.  I’d bring him to offer his self, if I was but left quiet along of him for a ten minutes or so.

Clara.  And then, Joan?

Joan.  And then, when was all fixed up comfortable between us, mistress, maybe as you could break it gently to him so as he wouldn’t think no worse of me.

[Clara gets up and goes to the window, where she looks out for a few minutes in silence.  Joan cries softly meanwhile.

Clara. [Turning towards Joan.] As you will, Joan.  Very likely ’twill be to-morrow morning before my lord reaches this place.

Joan.  O bless you for your goodness, mistress.  And I do pray as all may go as well with you as ’tis with me.

Clara. [Sadly.] That is not likely, Joan.

Joan.  What is it stands in the way, mistress?

Clara.  Briars, Joan.  Thorns of pride, and many another sharp and hurting thing.

Joan.  Then take you my counsel, mistress, and have his lordship when he do offer next.