_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._
_Mrs. Bev._ Where is he? (_Runs and embraces him_) O, I have him!
I have him! And now they shall never part us more! I have news, love,
to make you happy for ever--but don't look coldly on me.
_Char._ How is it, brother?
_Mrs. Bev._ Alas! he hears us not. Speak to me, love. I have no
heart to see you thus.
_Bev._ Nor I to bear the sense of so much shame. This is a sad place.
_Mrs. Bev._ We come to take you from it; to tell you that the world
goes well again; that providence has seen our sorrows, and sent the
means to heal them--Your uncle died yesterday.
_Bev._ My uncle!--No, do not say so--O! I am sick at heart!
_Mrs. Bev._ Indeed!--I meant to bring you comfort. _Bev._ Tell me he
lives then--If you would give me comfort, tell me he lives.
_Mrs. Bev._ And if I did, I have no power to raise the dead. He died
yesterday.
_Bev._ And I am heir to him?
_Jar._ To his whole estate, Sir--But bear it patiently.
_Bev._ Well, well--(_Pausing_) Why, fame says I am rich then?
_Mrs. Bev._ And truly so--Why do you look so wildly?
_Bev._ Do I? The news was unexpected. But has he left me all?
_Jar._ All, all, Sir--He could not leave it from you.
_Bev._ I'm sorry for it.
_Char._ Sorry! Why sorry?
_Bev._ Your uncle's dead, Charlotte.
_Char._ Peace be with his soul then. Is it so terrible that an old
man should die?
_Bev._ He should have been immortal.
_Mrs. Bev._ Heaven knows I wished not for his death. 'Twas the will
of providence that he should die. Why are you disturbed so?
_Bev._ Has death no terrors in it?
_Mrs. Bev._ Not an old man's death. Yet if it troubles you, I wish
him living.
_Bev._ And I, with all my heart.
_Char._ Why, what's the matter?
_Bev._ Nothing. How heard you of his death?
_Mrs. Bev._ His steward came express. Would I had never known
it!
_Bev._ Or had heard it one day sooner--For I have a tale to tell,
shall turn you into stone; or if the power of speech, remain, you
shall kneel down and curse me.
_Mrs. Bev._ Alas! what tale is this? And why are we to curse you?
I'll bless you for ever.
_Bev._ No; I have deserved no blessings. The world holds not such
another wretch. All this large fortune, this second bounty of
heaven, that might have healed our sorrows, and satisfied our utmost
hopes, in a curst hour I sold last night.
_Char._ Sold! How sold?
_Mrs. Bev._ Impossible! It cannot be!
_Bev._ That devil Stukely, with all hell to aid him, tempted me to
the deed. To pay false debts of honour, and to redeem past errors,
I sold the reversion--sold it for a scanty sum, and lost it among
villains.
_Char._ Why, farewel all then.
_Bev._ Liberty and life. Come, kneel and curse me.
_Mrs. Bev._ Then hear me heaven! (_Kneels_) Look down with mercy on
his sorrows! Give softness to his looks, and quiet to his heart!
Take from his memory the sense of what is past, and cure him of
despair! On Me, on Me, if misery must be the lot of either, multiply
misfortunes! I'll bear them patiently, so He is happy! These hands
shall toil for his support! These eyes be lifted up for hourly
blessings on him! And every duty of a fond and faithful wife, be
doubly done to chear and comfort him!--So hear me! so reward
me!
[_Rises_.
_Bev._ I would kneel too, but that offended heaven would turn my
prayers to curses. What have I to ask for? I, who have shook hands
with hope? Is it for length of days that I should kneel? No; My time
is limited. Or is it for this world's blessings upon You and Yours?
To pour out my heart in wishes for a ruined wife, a child and
sister? O! no! For I have done a deed to make you miserable.
_Mrs. Bev._ Why miserable? Is poverty so miserable?--The real wants
of life are few: a little industry will supply them all; and
chearfulness will follow. It is the privilege of honest industry;
and we'll enjoy it fully.
_Bev._ Never, never! O, I have told you but in part. The irrevocable
deed is done.
_Mrs. Bev._ What deed? And why do you look so at me?
_Bev._ A deed, that dooms my soul to vengeance; that seals Your
misery here, and Mine hereafter.
_Mrs. Bev._ No, no; You have a heart too good for't-- Alas! he
raves, Charlotte--his looks too terrify me--Speak comfort to him--He
can have done no deed of wickedness.
_Char._ And yet I fear the worst. What is it, brother?
_Bev._ A deed of horror.
_Jar._ Ask him no questions, madam. This last misfortune has hurt
his brain. A little time will give him patience.