_Ray._ Your persevering gallant, Capt. Dandelion, is after you. That is his yacht just dropping anchor.
_Kate._ Now, what could have sent him here?
_Ray._ You don’t seem pleased. Perhaps I may have been unkind in thought; but, remembering your partiality for him in the city, I feared you might have clandestinely invited him here.
_Kate._ Why, Father! can you think so meanly of me? Capt. Dandelion is very pleasant society in the city; but here I can do without him. Oh! I forgot: Sept. wants to speak to you.
_Kate._ Why, Sept.! what did you tell me when we were walking by the shore?
_Sept._ What did I tell you? why--that--I--what did I tell you?
_Sept._ Well, then, I said you were very beautiful.
_Sept._ Yes, I did; and I meant it; that you were rich, admired and courted; that your presence here had been like the coming of a new star in a dark night, to light the path of us hardy fisherman; that--that--
_Ray._ Well, Sept., I’m willing to obey; but what shall I say?--that I fear the presence of my daughter has made a young man forget his lowly station?
_Sept._ Yes, you may say that: it has. It has made him forget that he is poor, rough, and untutored,--that there are social bonds which hold the rich within their circles, where the poor may not enter. He has forgot all, all this. For the manhood within him--the love of the beautiful implanted in his breast--has burst all slavish bonds, and his heart has forced from his lips the words, ‘I love you!’
_Ray._ And you have said this to my daughter?
_Ray._ Base,--base,--base! you have taken advantage of having saved my daughter’s life--
_Kate._ Hold, father! you are mistaken. He has taken no advantage: I do not believe he ever thought of it. It was I who remembered that when I said, ‘Sept., I am glad to hear this; for I dearly, truly love you.’
_Ray._ Confound it, girl! what have you done?
_Kate._ Obeyed the instincts of a true woman, who, when she gains the heart of a man noble and good, accepts it fully and freely, caring not for wealth or station.
_Ray._ You’re a pair of romantic fools. I tell you, girl, you know not what you have done. This must not, cannot be.
_Kate._ Oh! but it is; you are too late: the mischief is done. So, father, give your consent and make us happy. (_Enter KITTY, C._)