Miss Mary. "That old fool," as you call him, was too honorable a
gentleman to disclose your secret, and too loyal a friend to
traduce you by an epithet. Fear nothing, Mr. "Sandy": if you have
limited your confidence to ONE friend, it has not been misplaced.
But, dear me, don't think I wish to penetrate your secret. No.
The little I learned was accidental. Besides, his business was
with me: perhaps, as his friend, you already know it.

Sandy (meekly). Perhaps, miss, he was too honorable a gentleman to
disclose YOUR secret. His business was with me.

Miss Mary (aside). He has taken a leaf out of my book! He is not
so stupid, after all. (Aloud.) I have no secret. Col. Starbottle
came here to make me an offer.

Sandy (recoiling). An offer!

Miss Mary. Of a home and independence. (Aside.) Poor fellow! how
pale he looks! (Aloud.) Well, you see, I am more trustful than
you. I will tell you MY secret; and you shall aid me with your
counsel. (They sit on ledge of rocks.) Listen! My mother had a
cousin once,--a cousin cruel, cowardly, selfish, and dissolute.
She loved him, as women are apt to love such men,--loved him so
that she beguiled her own husband to trust his fortunes in the
hands of this wretched profligate. The husband was ruined,
disgraced. The wife sought her cousin for help for her necessities.
He met her with insult, and proposed that she should fly with him.

Sandy. One moment, miss: it wasn't his pardner--his pardner's
wife--eh?