'Your daughter!' exclaimed Scythrop, and Mr and Mrs Hilary.
'Yes,' said Mr Toobad, 'my daughter Celinda.'
Marionetta opened her eyes and fixed them on Celinda; Celinda in
return fixed hers on Marionetta. They were at remote points of the
apartment. Scythrop was equidistant from both of them, central and
motionless, like Mahomet's coffin.
'Mr Glowry,' said Mr Toobad, 'can you tell by what means my daughter
came here?'
'I know no more,' said Mr Glowry, 'than the Great Mogul.'
'Mr Scythrop,' said Mr Toobad, 'how came my daughter here?'
'I did not know, sir, that the lady was your daughter.'
'But how came she here?'
'By spontaneous locomotion,' said Scythrop, sullenly.
'Celinda,' said Mr Toobad, 'what does all this mean?'
'I really do not know, sir.'
'This is most unaccountable. When I told you in London that I had
chosen a husband for you, you thought proper to run away from him; and
now, to all appearance, you have run away to him.'
'How, sir! was that your choice?'
'Precisely; and if he is yours too we shall be both of a mind, for the
first time in our lives.'
'He is not my choice, sir. This lady has a prior claim: I renounce
him.'
'And I renounce him,' said Marionetta.
Scythrop knew not what to do.
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