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Softly, however! I will observe her well before I declare myself. (Exit.

What a plague is the matter with the string of my bell this morning that it won't ring! I wish my Dolly would come and brush this coat for me. (Listening.) I hear her voice coming up stairs; she'll be here immediately.—This girl becomes every day more pleasing and more necessary to me. Ever since I entered this house she has aired my linen, set my slippers by the fire in a morning (for, good soul! she heard me complain that I am troubled with a chillness in my feet), and done all those little kindly offices about me with such a native grace as beggars all refinement.—But what, indeed, are the embellishments of artful manners to the graces of simple unadorned nature?—She is at hand.—Dolly! my sweet Dolly! (Calling to her.)

Coming, sir.

There is something of natural harmony in the very tones of her voice.