_Old Bar._ She does, dame, but in the right way. She thinks of others,
and not of herself. I tell you this, dame, if I thought that Lucy was
not my daughter, it would almost break my heart.
_Mrs Bar._ She's a good girl, and content with her father and mother. I
only wish that Peter was the same.
_Old Bar._ Peter was born a fool, dame, and he'll never be anything
else. But I hope this may prove of service to him. I hear that he has
already been up to the Hall.
_Mrs Bar._ Had we not better go there, too, Bargrove, and see Sir
Gilbert, or they may suppose we be parties to the report.
_Old Bar._ Why should they, and who knows the report as yet?
_Mrs Bar._ O, everybody! I was told of it ten minutes back by Mrs
Benson. She heard it of the footman, William. He says, that Captain
Etheridge has given Peter a sound thrashing.
_Old Bar._ Did he? Then I am very much indebted to him. I'll tell you
what, dame, I'll to the wood and find out this gipsy woman; and if
threatening her with the stocks and Bridewell won't make her confess, I
have a warrant in my pocket, just made out by the magistrates' clerk,
for the apprehension of the gang, on suspicion of their stealing Mrs
Fowler's turkey, and Farmer Groves' geese. We'll first see what can be
done there; and then I'll come back, and we'll walk up to the Hall.
_Mrs Bar._ Do so, Bargrove; let us show that we've a clear conscience,
at all events.
_Old Bar._ I'll be back in an hour, dame; I must go down to Wilson, the
constable. [_Exit old Bar._
_Mrs Bar._ I never was so put out in my life. That boy Peter's folly
worries me to death. Who comes here? why, it's Captain Etheridge, I do
declare. I am almost afraid to see one of the family now.
_Enter Captain Etheridge._
_Capt. Eth._ My dear Mrs Bargrove, with your permission. (_Kissing
her._) I can't leave off my old habit of kissing my nurse. How are you,
and your husband, and how is pretty Lucy?
_Mrs Bar._ Quite well, thank you, Mr Edward. Dear me, what a man you do
grow!
_Capt. Eth._ If I am not a man at five-and-twenty, dame, I never shall
be.
_Mrs Bar._ Five-and-twenty! dear heart! so it is--but time does fly
fast! It appears to me but the other day that I had you in my arms. How
does Miss Agnes to-day?
_Capt. Eth._ Not very well, dame, she has something to vex her. Indeed,
there's a rumour flying about, and I've come down to speak with you and
Lucy on the subject.
_Mrs Bar._ I know it all; but it's all false, Mr Edward, all stuff and
nonsense from beginning to end. Bargrove has now gone to sift the
matter. I'm sure I ought to know. A pretty trouble I've had about it;
what with foolish Peter, even Bargrove himself spoke to me as if I could
have been guilty of such an act.
_Capt. Eth._ What does Lucy think of it?
_Mrs Bar._ Lucy is more vexed than any of us. I really think, if she
thought it true, that she would make away with herself.
_Capt. Eth._ What! at the idea of being Miss Etheridge! no cause that
for suicide either.
_Mrs Bar._ No, not that, Captain Etheridge; but at the idea of rising in
the world at the expense of those to whom she owes both love and
gratitude. She's a good girl, Captain Etheridge.
_Capt. Eth._ I agree with you, dame, she's a very sweet girl. I wish to
speak to her. Will you send her to me?
_Mrs Bar._ To be sure I will, Master Edward. She'll be glad to see you.
She's always asking after you when you be away. [_Exit Mrs Bargrove._
_Capt. Eth._ I did but say a few words to her on my arrival. I dared not
trust myself with more. She looked so beautiful. I have not been able to
drive her from my thoughts ever since. Heigho! the conflict between
love and pride is well contested: nothing but opportunity can give the
victory to the one, and absence to the other. The more I know of her,
the more deserving she appears. I often try to find faults in her, but I
cannot discover them. I suppose that I inherit all my pride from my
mother; that I cherish it in preference to my happiness is clear. But
should this report prove true. Such things have occurred, and this may
have been done without the knowledge of Mrs Bargrove. Agnes and Lucy
then change situations; and I with that cub, Peter Bargrove. Very
pleasant indeed! the former is not of much consequence but to be jostled
out of my supposed birthright by a booby!
_Enter Lucy._
_Capt. Eth._ (_going up to her and taking her by the hand_). I took the
liberty to request a few minutes' interview.
_Lucy_ (_smiling_). Surely not a very great liberty with one whom you
have known so long, and who is so very much indebted to your father.
_Capt. Eth._ Not so much as his children are indebted to your mother.
But the object of my visit is, Lucy, to request that you will give me
some information relative to a ridiculous report.
_Lucy._ I can, and I can assure you, Captain Etheridge, that I believe
it to be without the shadow of a foundation. That Agnes and I were both
taken by surprise at the moment, you must not wonder at; but on
reflection, I am convinced that it is a fabrication. Indeed, the very
idea is most injurious to the character of my mother.
_Capt. Eth._ I grant this; but the change may have taken place without
the knowledge of your mother.
_Lucy._ It is possible, but barely possible, who but a foolish mother,
blinded by partiality, would ever have been guilty of an act which never
could benefit herself?
_Capt. Eth._ You are not well acquainted with the knavery of the world.
To prove a fact like this, in a court of justice, would, in most
instances, be rewarded liberally. Your brother, for instance, seems to
view the affair in a very different light.
_Lucy._ Captain Etheridge, I can honestly assert, that the rumour has
occasioned to me the greatest uneasiness; and were it to prove true, I
should be still more unhappy.
_Capt. Eth._ I cannot understand you. You would find yourself raised to
a position in society which you did not expect; courted by those who at
present disregard you, and moving in a circle to which, I must say, your
beauty and your other natural gifts would contribute to adorn.
_Lucy._ Do not flatter me. I have a great dislike to it. I am, I trust,
satisfied in my present situation; and, were I weak enough to indulge a
transient feeling of vanity, the reminiscence which would instantly
intrude, that my advancement was founded on the misery of those I love
better than myself, would render it a source of deep and unceasing
regret.
_Capt. Eth._ Those you love better than yourself, Lucy; who are they?
_Lucy_ (_confused_). I referred to your sister Agnes, and to your
father.
_Capt. Eth._ O, not to me!--then I am an _exclusion_.
_Lucy._ My gratitude to your father for his kindness, and our intimacy
from childhood, ought to assure you, Captain Etheridge, that----I must
ever wish for your happiness.
_Capt. Eth._ But suppose, my dear Lucy, this should prove to be true.
_Lucy._ I have already stated my sentiments.
_Capt. Eth._ You have, Lucy, generally, and much to your honour; but I
am just putting the case for my amusement. Suppose it were proved true,
you would not look down upon me as the child of your inferiors?
_Lucy._ Captain Etheridge, the very observation, for your amusement, is
both ungenerous and unkind. I acknowledge our present inferiority, but
not perhaps to the extent which would be exacted from your family. But
oblige me by not carrying your suppositions any further.
(_Tremulously._) I am not very happy--as it is.
_Capt. Eth._ Forgive me, Lucy, I did not intend to inflict pain. I am
much too fond of you for that.
_Lucy._ Then why do you come here to make me miserable?
_Capt. Eth._ To make you miserable, my dear Lucy? I should, indeed, be a
wretch, when my own happiness depends upon you. (_Lucy starts._)
(_Aside._) It is out at last. Now there's no retreat in honour, and I
thank heaven for it. (_Aloud._) Did you hear me, Lucy? (_Lucy appears
fainting, Etheridge supports her._) Are you angry with me, Lucy? (_She
weeps._) I will confess to you honestly, that I have long struggled with
my passion, but pride, ridiculous pride, has severely punished me for
listening to its selfish dictates. Believe me, when I assert, that never
was man more attached than I am to you. Answer me, Lucy, am I then
indifferent to you?
_Lucy._ (_separating herself gently from Captain Etheridge_). I will be
as candid as you have been. (_Remains for a little time silent._)
Whether you are indifferent to me or not, I must leave you to judge,
from the effects of your communication; but I have also pride, and that
pride never will allow me to enter a family against the wishes of those
who have a right to be consulted on a question of such serious
importance.
_Capt. Eth._ Only one question, Lucy. If my father consents to our
union, will you be satisfied, without the concurrence of my mother?
_Lucy._ I should abide by the decision of my own father and mother; but,
to confess the truth, I should not be satisfied.
_Capt. Eth._ Am I then to consider this as a mere act of duty, Lucy? Is
there no feeling towards me?
_Lucy._ O yes! Why should I deny it? Indeed, Edward, if you could have
read my heart for some time back, you would have found----
_Capt. Eth._ What, my dear Lucy?
_Lucy._ That your image has long occupied it--to its unhappiness.
_Capt. Eth._ As yours has mine. Now I trust they will cherish their
inmates with delight. Farewell, my dearest Lucy; I hasten to my father,
and I've an idea in my brain which may procure the completion of our
wishes.
[_They embrace. Exit Captain Etheridge._
_Lucy._ God give me strength, and make me sufficiently grateful! This
was so unexpected. O Edward! Edward! you have opened such a vista of
delight through the dark clouds that surrounded me, that I tremble as I
gaze. How dreadful will be this suspense! Now am I arrived at the crisis
of my fate. Either I am blessed beyond all hope, and all desert--or
else--I die. [_Exit._
_Scene IV._
_A room in the Hall. Enter William, showing in Peter Bargrove._
_Will._ Step in this room, Mr Peter, and I'll let my lady know that you
are here. I say, Mr Peter, what can you want with my lady?
_Peter_ (_consequentially_). That cannot concern you, sir, I should
think.
_Will._ What's the matter now? Why, you used to be civil and genteel. I
say, I suppose you have found a mare's nest.
_Peter._ Don't be saucy, sir; go and deliver your message to my lady.
_Will._ And if it warn't for my own sake, I wouldn't now. [_Exit
William._
_Peter._ We shall see some difference, I flatter myself, in their
behaviour when they know who's who. How shall I address her? I never
before dare speak to her, she is so haughty and proud. But she won't be
so when she knows that I am her son. Pooh! I don't care for her now.
_Re-enter William._
_Will._ My lady desires you to wait in the servants' hall till she sends
for you. This way.
_Peter._ Indeed, I will not--I'll wait here.
_Will._ O, very well--just as you please; but you'll take the
consequences. Recollect, I have delivered my lady's message.
_Peter._ You have--and you may go.
_Will._ Well, I suspect you be got a cloth in the wind, Mr Peter. [_Exit
William._
_Peter._ Means I'm drunk! Insolent fellow! I'll give him warning. I
daresay my lady will be very angry till she knows the circumstances.
Then the sooner I let it out the better (_walks about_). What care I.
I'll be as brave as brass.
_Lady Eth._ (_without_). I'll be back directly.
_Peter_ (_fanning himself with his hat_). O lud! here she comes.
(_Recovering himself_). Who cares! Let her come.
_Enter Lady Etheridge._
_Lady Eth._ You here, sir! I desired you to wait in the servants' hall.
_Peter._ Yes, my lady, you did--but--but--that is not a fit place for
me.
_Lady Eth._ I am sure this room is not. Well, sir--what do you want?
_Peter._ Lady Etheridge, I have most important intelligence to
communicate.
_Lady Eth._ Well, sir, let me hear it.
_Peter._ Lady Etheridge, prepare yourself for most unthought-of news.
_Lady Eth._ Will you speak out, fool?
_Peter_ (_aside_). Fool! very maternal indeed. (_Aloud._) If I am a
fool, Lady Etheridge, why, all the worse for you.
_Lady Eth._ How, sir?
_Peter._ Yes, my lady, I think you'll treat me with more respect very
soon.
_Lady Eth._ I shall order the servants to show you the door very soon.
_Peter._ If you do, my lady, I sha'n't go out of it.
_Lady Eth._ Insolent fellow, leave the room directly.
_Peter._ No, can't, upon my honour. (_Aside._) How she'll beg my pardon
for all this by-and-bye! It's really very pleasant. (_Aloud._) I come,
my lady, to communicate most important intelligence, but I want to break
it to you carefully, lest you should be too much overcome with joy.
Prepare yourself, my lady, for astounding news. You have a son!
_Lady Eth._ (_Aside._) The fellow's mad. (_Aloud._) Well, sir, what's
that to you?
_Peter._ A great deal, my lady; you don't know him.
_Lady Eth._ What does the fool mean?
_Peter._ No, my lady, you don't know him. Him whom you suppose to be
your son--is--not your son.
_Lady Eth._ (_Startled._) Indeed!
_Peter._ Yes, my lady, but your son is not far off.
_Lady Eth._ Are you deranged?
_Peter._ No; quite sensible--hear me out. Dame Bargrove nursed that son.
_Lady Eth._ Well, sir!
_Peter._ And, Lady Etheridge, we have proof positive, that the wicked
woman changed him.
_Lady Eth._ (_screaming._) Changed him!
_Peter._ Yes, changed him for her own. Edward Etheridge is Edward
Bargrove, and Peter Bargrove Peter Etheridge. My dear, dear mother!
(_Runs into her arms and kisses her repeatedly, notwithstanding her
endeavours to prevent him._)
_Lady Eth._ (_screaming._) Oh! oh!
[_Peter leads her to a chair, and she goes into hysterics._
_Peter._ How very affecting.
_Enter Sir Gilbert._
_Adm._ What's all this! Is Lady Etheridge ill?
_Peter._ A little overcome with joy, Sir Gilbert. It will be your turn
next.
_Adm._ (_Going to Lady Etheridge, who recovers._) What's the matter, my
love?
_Lady Eth._ (_spitting_). O the wretch--the brute! He has taken
liberties!
_Adm._ Taken liberties, the scoundrel! Pray, sir, what liberties have
you taken with Lady Etheridge?
_Peter._ I only smothered her with kisses.
_Adm._ What do you mean, sir? Are you mad? Smothering her with kisses!
_Peter._ (_smiling_). I certainly did assume that privilege, Sir
Gilbert.
_Adm._ Did you, you rascal? then I'll just assume another. (_Thrashes
Peter round the room._)
_Peter._ My father! O my honoured parent! Oh! your own son! Oh, your
affectionate----
[_Exit Peter, pursued by the Admiral._
_Adm._ (_returning, puffing and blowing_). Why, positively, the fellow
is stark, staring mad.
_Enter Agnes, Captains Etheridge and Mertoun._
_Capt. Eth._ What is all this disturbance, my dear father?
_Adm._ What is it, why, I hardly can tell. There has been an impudent
scoundrel--that young Bargrove--kissing your mother till she has
fainted, and swearing that he is my son. Called me his honoured
parent--but I cudgelled the rascal!
_Agnes._ (_leaning on Captain Etheridge's shoulder_). O heavens!
_Capt. Eth._ The fellow himself has just now been trying to elbow me out
of my birthright. However, I met his pretensions with the same argument
as you did. Who could have put all this nonsense into his addled head so
firmly, that two good cudgellings cannot beat it out?
_Capt. Mer._ Etheridge, your sister is unwell.
_Capt. Eth._ Don't be alarmed, my dear Agnes.
_Agnes._ Oh! but indeed I am--I expected this.
_Adm._ Expected this! Have you, then, heard anything, my love?
_Agnes._ Yes, I have indeed; just before my brother arrived I was told
that my real name was Agnes Bargrove.
_Adm._ How very extraordinary! Who told you so?
_Agnes._ A very strange woman; but she appeared to know all about it. It
has made me very unhappy ever since.
_Adm._ This must be inquired into. Where did you meet with her?
_Agnes._ In the lower wood. But Lucy can tell you more. Speak to her.
_Lady Eth._ I'm very ill. Lead me to my room.
[_Exeunt Sir Gilbert and Lady Etheridge._
_Cap. Eth._ And I must away to unravel this deep-laid plot. Mertoun, I
must leave you to take care of Agnes.
[_Exit Capt. Etheridge._
_Capt. Mer._ A pleasing change, if I am not unwelcome. May I be
permitted, Miss Etheridge, from a very great interest which I must ever
take in the prosperity of your family--may I ask if you imagine there is
any truth in this report?
_Agnes._ It is impossible for me to answer, Captain Mertoun. Why should
such a report be raised without some foundation. True or not, I have
ever since felt in a situation so awkward, that I fear my conduct may
have appeared strange to others.
_Capt. Mer._ I must confess that your evident restraint towards me, so
different from what perhaps my vanity induced me to hope, has been to me
a source of wonder as well as regret. May I flatter myself that this
rumour has been the occasion of an apparent caprice, which I never could
have imagined that Miss Etheridge would have indulged in?
_Agnes._ You must be aware, Captain Mertoun, that I could not receive
you as Agnes Etheridge until those doubts upon my parentage were
removed. It would not have been honest.
_Capt. Mer._ And was this the only cause for your change of behaviour
towards me, Agnes?
_Agnes._ Why--yes,--I believe so.
_Capt. Mer._ Now, then, let me declare that, whether you prove to be
Agnes Etheridge, or Agnes Bargrove, those sentiments which I have felt
towards you, and which have not hitherto been revealed excepting to your
brother, must ever remain the same. For your own sake, and for the sake
of Sir Gilbert and Lady Etheridge, who would deeply regret the loss of
such a daughter, I trust that the report is without foundation. For my
own part, I rather rejoice at this opportunity of proving the sincerity
of my attachment. Let me but find favour in the sight of Agnes, and the
surname will be immaterial.
_Agnes._ Immaterial, Captain Mertoun!
_Capt. Mer._ Yes, quite so; for I shall persuade you to change it as
soon as possible, for my own. (_Kneels._) Tell me, dearest Agnes----
_Agnes._ Tell you what?
_Capt. Mer._ Something that will make me happy.
_Agnes._ (_smiling_). Shall I tell you what the gipsy woman said when
she told me my fortune?
_Capt. Mer._ Nay, do not trifle with me.
_Agnes._ (_archly_). I asked whether I should marry the person that I
loved.
_Capt. Mer._ A very natural question.
_Agnes._ She replied, "Yes, if he is more generous than the generality
of his sex." (_Gives her hand._) Captain Mertoun, you have proved
yourself so to be, and, since you offer to take Agnes, truly speaking,
for "better or for worse," I will not keep you in suspense by disguising
my real sentiments.
_Capt. Mer._ Dearest Agnes, you have indeed made me happy. (_Embraces
her._) I accompanied your brother, with the sole view of pleading my own
cause. Imagine then my misery at your cruel reception.
_Agnes._ That you may not think me interested by my accepting your
generous offer during this state of uncertainty, I will own how often I
have thought of you, and how eagerly I looked for your arrival. Let us
go now, Mertoun, and see whether Lady Etheridge is recovered.
[_Exeunt arm in arm._
_Scene V._
_The wood. Enter Nelly._
_Nelly._ I have tried in vain to dissuade them to abandon their
projects. They are preparing their instruments and their weapons. They
have determined to attempt the Hall to-night. I have written this letter
to Sir Gilbert, and, if I can find any one to convey it, the scoundrels
will be taken and punished. If I cannot, I must contrive some means to
escape to the Hall; but they suspect me, and watch me so narrowly, that
it is almost impossible. What shall I do? There is somebody coming; it
is that fool, Peter Bargrove. Then all is right. I will make use of him.
_Enter Peter._
Your servant, fortunate sir!
_Peter._ Fortunate! why now ar'n't you an infamous hussy? Hav'n't you
taken my purse and my money, for your intelligence that I was changed in
my cradle,--and what has been the consequence?
_Nelly._ That everybody has been astonished.
_Peter._ I have been astonished, at all events. I have had so many
cudgellings that I must count them with my fingers. First, a huge one
from old Bargrove; secondly, a smart one from Captain Etheridge; and
thirdly, a severe one from Sir Gilbert. What is the value of your good
news if no one will believe it?
_Nelly._ Very true--but how could you expect they would?
_Peter._ Then what's the good of knowing it?
_Nelly._ You must know a fact before you attempt to prove it. You only
bought the knowledge of me, you never paid for the proof.
_Peter._ No; but I've paid for the knowledge. (_Rubbing his shoulders._)
But didn't you say that Mrs Bargrove would confess?
_Nelly._ I thought it likely--but, if she won't, we must make her.
_Peter._ How?
_Nelly._ Bring evidence against her that will convict her, so that she
will find it useless denying it.
_Peter._ But where is it?
_Nelly._ Here (_holding out the letter_).
_Peter._ Give it me.
_Nelly._ Stop, stop; you've not paid for it.
_Peter._ Upon my honour, I've not got a farthing in the world. I durst
not ask either father or mother after the bobbery we've had. Indeed, I
hardly know whether I dare go home and get my victuals, Won't you trust
me?
_Nelly._ When will you pay me?
_Peter._ When I come to my title and estate.
_Nelly._ Well then, as I think you are a gentleman, I will trust you.
Now observe, this letter is addressed to Sir Gilbert. It contains a
statement of facts that will astonish and convince him. You must not
trust it into other hands, but deliver it yourself.
_Peter._ He'll cudgel me.
_Nelly._ No, he will not. But, even if he did, would you mind a few
blows for the certainty of being one day Sir Peter Etheridge?
_Peter._ No, hang me if I do. They might all cudgel me together, if they
could cudgel me into the only son of a baronet of ten thousand a year.
_Nelly._ Well, then, as soon as you can, go boldly up to the Hall, and
say to Sir Gilbert, "Sir Gilbert, in justice to yourself, read this
letter, and do not despise the caution, as it is all true." You will
then see the effect of it.
_Peter._ See--not feel. You are certain he won't be angry. Well, then, I
will--in this case I'm in a great hurry as anybody. I can promise. So
good-bye. [_Exit._
_Nelly._ Now I think all is safe; but I must quit the gang or my life
will be in danger.
_Enter Old Bargrove, with Constable._
Oh, that I could recall the last twenty years! How wicked, how infamous
have I become.
[_Covers her face with her hands. Old Bargrove advances and taps
her on the shoulder. Nelly starts._
Mercy on me!
_Old Bar._ You must not expect much. I believe you tell fortunes, my
good woman!
_Nelly._ (_curtseying._) Yes, sir, sometimes.
_Old Bar._ And steal geese and turkeys?
_Nelly._ No, sir, indeed.
_Old Bar._ Well, you help to eat them afterwards, and the receiver is
just as bad as the thief. You must come along with me.
_Nelly._ Along with you, sir!
_Old Bar._ Do you see this little bit of paper? But, now I look at you,
haven't we met before?
_Nelly._ Met before, sir!
_Old Bar._ Yes--hold your head up a little, either my eyes deceive me,
or you--yes, I'll swear to it--you are Nelly Armstrong. Not quite so
good-looking as you were when we parted. Now I understand all. Come,
take her along to the Hall at once.
_Nelly._ Indeed, sir----
_Old Bar._ Not a word. Away with her, slanderous, lying,
mischievous----[_Exeunt omnes._
_Scene VI._
_A Drawing-Room in the Hall._
_Enter Sir Gilbert and Captain Etheridge._
_Adm._ I love Lucy as my own daughter, and it often occurred to me how
delighted I should be to receive her as such. But your mother's dislike
to her is most unaccountable.
_Capt. Eth._ There is the difficulty which I am most anxious to
surmount. I am afraid that, without my mother's concurrence, Lucy will
never consent to enter into the family. She has pride as well as Lady
Etheridge.
_Adm._ Yes, but of a very different quality; a proper pride, Edward; a
respect for herself, added to a little feeling, to which she adheres in
the decayed state of her family, which once was superior to ours.
_Capt. Eth._ If my mother could but once be induced to suppose that this
rumour is correct, we might obtain her unwilling consent.
_Adm._ The report I believe to be wholly without foundation, and so I
would, even if it were given against us in a court of justice.