_and_ William _meeting him, the latter delivers a letter._
_Will._ The gentleman desired me to say he is below, sir.
_Sir W._ Hey! (_reads_) "My dear Worret, I hope that a long absence from
my native land has not obliterated the recollection of our friendship. I
have thought it right to adopt this method of announcing my return, lest
my too sudden appearance should hurt _your_ feelings, by deranging the
_delicate nerves_ of your _amiable lady_" Hey!
"Ever yours,
"FREDERICK FALKNER."
Bless my soul! Falkner alive? show the gentleman up.
_Will._ He's here, sir.
_Enter_ Falkner.
_Falk._ My old friend, I rejoice to see you.
_Sir W._ Friend Falkner, I shan't attempt to say how welcome your return
is. We all thought you dead and buried. Where have you been all these
years?
_Falk._ A wanderer. Let that suffice.
_Sir W._ I see you still retain your old antipathy to answering
questions, so I shall ask none--Have you been in France, or among the
savages? Hey! I remember you had a daughter at school--is she alive? is
she merry or miserable? Is she married?
_Falk._ Zounds what a medley! France and savages! marriage and misery!
_Sir W._ Ods life, I'm happy to see you! I haven't been so cheerful or
happy for many a day.
_Falk._ How's your wife?
_Sir W._ Hey! thank ye, sir! why that excellent good woman is in high
health, in astonishing health! by my troth I speak it with unspeakable
joy, I think she's a better life now than she was when I married her!
(_in a melancholy tone._)
_Falk._ That must be a source of _vast comfort_ to you. I don't wonder
at your being so cheerful and happy.
_Sir W._ True--but it isn't _that_--that is, not altogether so: no, 'tis
that I once more hold my friend Falkner by the hand, and that my
daughter--you remember your little favourite Helen--
_Falkner._ I do indeed!
_Sir W._ You are arrived at a critical moment: I mean shortly to marry
her--
_Falkner._ I forbid the banns!
_Sir W._ The devil you do!
_Falkner._ Pshaw! (_aside_) my feelings o'erstep my discretion. Take
care what you're about--If you're an honest man, you'd rather see her
dead than married to a villain.
_Sir W._ To be sure I would; but the man I mean her to marry--
_Falkner._ Perhaps will never be her husband.
_Sir W._ The devil he wont! why not?
_Falkner._ Talk of something else--you know I was always an eccentric
being--
_Sir W._ What the devil does he mean? yes, yes you was always eccentric;
but do you know--
_Falkner._ I know more than I wish to know; I've lived long enough in
the world to know that roguery fattens on the same soil where honesty
starves; and I care little whether time adds to information which opens
to me more and more the depravity of human nature.
_Sir W._ Why, Falkner, you are grown more a misanthrope than ever.
_Falkner._ You know well enough I have had my vexations in life; in an
early stage of it I married--
_Sir W._ Every man has his trials!
_Falkner._ About two years afterwards I lost my wife.
_Sir W._ That was a heavy misfortune! however you bore it with
fortitude.
_Falkner._ I bore it easily; my wife was a woman without feelings: she
had not energy for great virtue, and she had no vice, because she had no
passion: life with her was a state of stagnation.
_Sir W._ How different are the fates of men!
_Falkner._ In the next instance, I had a friend whom I would have
trusted with my life--with more--my honour--I need not tell you then I
thought him the first of human beings; but I was mistaken--he understood
my character no better than I knew his: he confided to me a transaction
which proved him to be a villain, and I commanded him never to see me
more.
_Sir W._ Bless me! what was that transaction?
_Falkner._ It was a secret, and has remained so. Though I should have
liked to hang the fellow, he had trusted me, and no living creature but
himself and me at this day is possessed of it.
_Sir W._ Strange indeed; and what became of him.
_Falkner._ I have not seen him since, but I shall see him in a few
hours.
_Sir W._ Indeed, is he in this neighbourhood?
_Falkner._ That circumstance of my friend, and a loss in the West
Indies, which shook the fabric of my fortune to its foundation, drove me
from the world--I am now returned to it with better prospects--my
property, which I then thought lost, is doubled--circumstances have
called me hither on an important errand, and before we are four and
twenty hours older, you may see some changes which will make you doubt
your own senses for the remainder of your days--
_Sir W._ You astonish me mightily.
_Falkner._ Yes, you stare as if you were astonished: but why do I stay
chattering here? I must be gone.
_Sir. W._ Nay, pr'ythee now--
_Falkner._ Pshaw! I have paid my first visit to you, because you are the
first in my esteem: don't weaken it by awkward and unseasonable
ceremony--I must now about the business that brings me here: no
interruption, if you wish to see me again let me have my own way, and I
may, perhaps, be back in half an hour.
_Sir W._ But I want to tell you that--
_Falkner._ I know--I know--you want to prove to me that you are the
least talker, and the best husband in the county: but both secrets must
keep till my return, when I shall be happy to congratulate you--and so
farewell-- [_Exit._
_Sir W._ Bless my soul! what can he mean? 'I forbid the banns'--'lost my
wife'--'horrid transaction'--'back again in half an hour'--dear
me--John--Thomas! lady Worret! Helen! [_Exit._