Chapter VI: Act THE FIFTH: Scene I

_A wooded view of the country._

_Enter_ SUSAN ASHFIELD, _who looks about with anxiety, and then comes forward._

_Susan._ I fear my conduct is very imprudent.--Has not Mr. Handy told me he is engaged to another? But 'tis hard for the heart to forego, without one struggle, its only hope of happiness; and, conscious of my honour, what have I to fear? Perhaps he may repent of his unkindness to me--at least I'll put his passion to the proof; if he be worthy of my love, happiness is for ever mine; if not, I'll tear him from my breast, though from the wound my life's blood should follow. Ah! he comes--I feel I am a coward, and my poor alarmed heart trembles at its approaching trial--pardon me, female delicacy, if for a moment I seem to pass thy sacred limits. [_Retires up the stage._

_Enter_ HANDY, _jun._

_Handy, jun._ By Heavens! the misfortunes of Sir Philip Blandford weigh so heavily on my spirits, that--but confusion to melancholy! I am come here to meet an angel, who will, in a moment, drive away the blue devils like mist before the sun. Let me again read the dear words; [_Reading a letter._] "I confess, I love you still;" [_Kisses the letter._] but I dare not believe their truth till her sweet lips confirm it. Ah! she's there--Susan, my angel! a thousand thanks. A life of love can alone repay the joy your letter gave me.

_Susan._ Do you not despise me?

_Handy, jun._ No; love you more than ever.

_Susan._ Oh! Robert, this is the very crisis of my fate.----From this moment we meet with honour, or we meet no more. If we must part, perhaps, when you lead your happy bride to church, you may stumble over your Susan's grave. Well, be it so.

_Handy, jun._ Away with such sombre thoughts!

_Susan._ Tell me my doom--yet hold--you are wild, impetuous--you do not give your heart fair play--therefore promise me (perhaps 'tis the last favour I shall ask), that before you determine whether our love shall die or live with honour, you will remain here alone a few moments, and that you will give those moments to reflection.

_Handy, jun._ I do--I will.

_Susan._ With a throbbing heart I will wait at a little distance. May virtuous love and sacred honour direct his thoughts! [_Aside.--Exit._

_Handy, jun._ Yes, I will reflect, that I am the most fortunate fellow in England. She loves me still--what is the consequence?--that love will triumph--that she will be mine--mine without the degradation of marriage--love, pride, all gratified--how I shall be envied when I triumphantly pass the circles of fashion! One will cry, "Who is that angel?"--another, "Happy fellow!" then Susan will smile around--will she smile? oh yes--she will be all gaiety--mingle with the votaries of pleasure, and--what! Susan Ashfield the companion of licentious women!--Damnation!--no! I wrong her--she would not--she would rather shun society--she would be melancholy--melancholy! [_Sighs, and looks at his watch._]--would the time were over!--Pshaw! I think of it too seriously--'Tis false--I do not.--Should her virtue yield to love, would not remorse affect her health? should I not behold that lovely form sicken and decay--perhaps die?--die! then what am I?--a villain, loaded with her parents' curses and my own.--Let me fly from the dreadful thought.--But how fly from it?--[_Calmly._]--By placing before my imagination a picture of more honourable lineaments.--I make her my wife.--Ah! then she would smile on me--there's rapture in the thought;--instead of vice producing decay, I behold virtue emblazoning beauty; instead of Susan on the bed of death, I behold her giving to my hopes a dear pledge of our mutual love. She places it in my arms--down her father's honest face runs a tear--but 'tis the tear of joy. Oh, this will be luxury! paradise!--Come, Susan!--come, my love, my soul--my _wife_.

_Enter_ SUSAN--_she at first hesitates--on hearing the word_ wife, _she springs into his arms._

_Susan._ Is it possible?

_Handy, jun._ Yes, those charms have conquered.

_Susan._ Oh! no; do not so disgrace the victory you have gained--'tis your own virtue that has triumphed.

_Handy, jun._ My Susan! how true it is that fools alone are vicious. But let us fly to my father, and obtain his consent. On recollection, that may not be quite so easy. His arrangements with Sir Philip Blandford are--are--not mine, so there's an end of that. And Sir Philip, by misfortune, knows how to appreciate happiness. Then poor Miss Blandford--upon my soul I feel for her.

_Susan._ [_Ironically._] Come, don't make yourself miserable. If my suspicions be true, she'll not break her heart for your loss.

_Handy, jun._ Nay, don't say so; she will be unhappy.

_Ash._ [_Without._] There he is. Dame, shall I shoot at un?

_Dame._ No.

_Susan._ My father's voice.

_Ash._ Then I'll leather un wi' my stick.

_Enter_ ASHFIELD _and_ DAME.

_Ash._ What do thee do here with my Sue, eh?

_Handy, jun._ With your Sue!--she's mine--mine by a husband's right.

_Ash._ Husband! what, thee Sue's husband?

_Handy, jun._ I soon shall be.

_Ash._ But how tho'?--What! faith and troth?--What! like as I married Dame?

_Handy, jun._ Yes.

_Ash._ What! axed three times!

_Handy, jun._ Yes; and from this moment I'll maintain, that the real temple of love is a parish church--Cupid is a chubby curate--his torch is the sexton's lantern--and the according paean of the spheres is the profound nasal thorough bass of the clerk's Amen.

_Ash._ Huzza! only to think now--my blessing go with you, my children!

_Dame._ And mine.

_Ash._ And Heaven's blessing too. Ecod, I believe now, as thy feyther zays, thee canst do every thing!

_Handy, jun._ No; for there is one thing I cannot do--injure the innocence of woman.

_Ash._ Drabbit it! I shall walk in the road all day to zee Sue ride by in her own coach.

_Susan._ You must ride with me, father.

_Dame._ I say, Tummas, what will Mrs. Grundy say then?

_Ash._ I do hope thee will not be asham'd of thy feyther in laa, wool ye?

_Handy, jun._ No; for then I must also be ashamed of myself, which I am resolved not to be again.

_Enter_ SIR ABEL HANDY.

_Sir Abel._ Heyday, Bob! why an't you gallanting your intended bride? but you are never where you ought to be.

_Handy, jun._ Nay, sir, by your own confession I _am_ where I ought to be.

_Sir Abel._ No! you ought to be at the Castle--Sir Philip is there, and Miss Blandford is there, and Lady Handy is there, and therefore--

_Handy, jun._ You are _not_ there. In one word, I shall not marry Miss Blandford.

_Sir Abel._ Indeed! who told you so?

_Handy, jun._ One who never lies--and, therefore, one I am determined to make a friend of--my conscience.

_Sir Abel._ But zounds! sir, what excuse have you?

_Handy, jun._ [_Taking_ SUSAN'S _hand._] A very fair one, sir--is not she?

_Sir Abel._ Why, yes, sir, I can't deny it--but, 'sdeath, sir, this overturns my best plan!

_Handy, jun._ No, sir; for a parent's best plan is his son's happiness, and that it will establish. Come, give us your consent. Consider how we admire all your wonderful inventions.

_Sir Abel._ No, not my plough, Bob--but 'tis a devilish clever plough.

_Handy, jun._ I dare say it is. Come, sir, consent, and perhaps, in our turn, we may invent something that may please you.

_Sir Abel._ He! he! he! well--but hold--what's the use of my consent without my wife's--bless you! I dare no more approve, without--

_Enter_ GERALD.

_Gerald._ Health to this worthy company!

_Sir Abel._ The same to you, sir.

_Handy, jun._ Who have we here, I wonder?

_Gerald._ I wish to speak with Sir Abel Handy.

_Sir Abel._ I am the person.

_Gerald._ You are married?

_Sir Abel._ Damn it! he sees it in my face.--Yes, I have that happiness.

_Gerald._ Is it a happiness?

_Sir Abel._ To say the truth--why do you ask?

_Gerald._ I want answers, not questions--and depend on't 'tis your interest to answer me.

_Handy, jun._ An extraordinary fellow this!

_Gerald._ Would it break your heart to part with her!

_Sir Abel._ Who are you, sir, that----

_Gerald._ Answers--I want answers--would it break your heart, I ask?

_Sir Abel._ Why, not absolutely, I hope. Time, and philosophy, and----

_Gerald._ I understand--what sum of money wou'd you give to the man, who would dissolve your marriage contract?

_Handy, jun._ He means something, sir.

_Sir Abel._ Do you think so, Bob?

_Gerald._ Would you give a thousand pounds?

_Sir Abel._ No!

_Handy, jun._ No!

_Sir Abel._ No; I would not give one; but I would give five thousand pounds.

_Gerald._ Generously offered--a bargain--I'll do it.

_Sir Abel._ But, an't you deceiving me?

_Gerald._ What should I gain by that?

_Sir Abel._ Tell me your name?

_Gerald._ Time will tell that.

_Lady H._ [_Without._] Sir Abel, where are you?

_Gerald._ That's your wife's voice--I know it.

_Sir Abel._ So do I.

_Gerald._ I'll wait without--Cry, "Hem!" when you want me.

_Sir Abel._ Then you need not go far-- [_Exit_ GERALD.

I dare not believe it--I should go out of my wits--and then if he fail, what a pickle I shall be in! Here she is.

_Enter_ LADY HANDY.

_Lady H._ So, sir, I have found you at last?

_Handy, jun._ My honoured mamma, you have just come in time to give your consent to my marriage with my sweet Susan.

_Lady H._ And do you imagine I will agree to such degradation?

_Ash._ Do'e, Lady Nelly, do'e be kind hearted to the young loviers.--Remember how I used to let thee zit up all night a sweethearting.

_Lady H._ Silence! and have you dared to consent? [_To_ SIR ABEL.

_Sir Abel._ Oh, no, my Lady!

_Handy, jun._ Sir, you had better cry--"Hem."

_Sir Abel._ I think it's time, Bob--Hem!

_Handy, jun._ Hem!

_Lady H._ What do you mean by--Hem!

_Sir Abel._ Only, my dear, something troublesome I want to get rid of--Hem!

_Enter_ GERALD.

There he is--never was so frightened in all my life.

[GERALD _advances._]

_Lady H._ [_Shrieks and exclaims._] Gerald!

_Gerald._ Yes.

_Lady H._ An't you dead, Gerald? Twenty years away and not dead?

_Gerald._ No, wife.

_Sir Abel._ Wife! did you say, wife?

_Gerald._ Yes.

_Sir Abel._ Say it again.

_Gerald._ She is my wife.

_Sir Abel._ Once more.

_Gerald._ My lawful, wedded wife.

_Sir Abel._ Oh, my dear fellow!--Oh, my dear boy! Oh, my dear girl!--[_Embraces_ GERALD _and the rest._] Oh, my dear! [_Running to_ MRS. GERALD.] No--yes, now she an't my wife, I will--well--how will you have the five thousand? Will you have it in cash, or in bank notes--or stocks, or India bonds, or lands, or patents, or----

_Gerald._ No--land will do--I wish to kill my own mutton.

_Sir Abel._ Sir, you shall kill all the sheep in Hampshire.

_Gerald._ Sir Abel, you have lost five thousand pounds, and with it, properly managed, an excellent wife, who, though I cannot condescend to take again as mine--you may depend on't shall never trouble you. Come! this way [_Beckoning to_ MRS. GERALD.]--important events now call on me, and prevent my staying longer with this company. Sir Abel, we shall meet soon. Nay, come, you know I'm not used to trifle; Come, come--[_She reluctantly, but obediently, crosses the stage, and runs off_--GERALD _follows._]

_Sir Abel._ [_Imitating._] Come, come--That's a damn'd clever fellow! Joy, joy, my boy! Here, here, your hands--The first use I make of liberty, is to give happiness--I wish I had more imitators--Well, what will you do? [_Walks about exultingly._] Where will you go? I'll go any where you like--Will you go to Bath, or Brighton, or Petersburgh, or Jerusalem, or Seringapatam? all the same to me--we single fellows--we rove about--nobody cares about us--we care for nobody.

_Handy, jun._ I must to the Castle, father.

_Sir Abel._ Have with you Bob. [_Singing._] "I'll sip every flower--I'll change every hour."--[_Beckoning._]--Come, come--[_Exeunt_ SIR ABEL, HANDY, _jun. and_ SUSAN. SUSAN _kisses her hand to_ ASHFIELD _and_ DAME.]

_Ash._ Bless her! how nicely she do trip it away with the gentry!

_Dame._ And then, Tummas, think of the wedding.

_Ash._ [_Reflecting._] I declare I shall be just the zame as ever--may be I may buy a smartish bridle, or a zilver backy stopper, or the like o' that.

_Dame._ [_Apart._] And, then, when we come out of church, Mrs. Grundy will be standing about there--

_Ash._ I shall shake hands agreeably wi' all my friends. [_Apart._]

_Dame._ [_Apart._] Then I just look at her in this manner.

_Ash._ [_Apart._] How dost do, Peter--Ah, Dick,--glad to zee thee wi' all my zoul. [_Bows towards the centre of the stage._]

_Dame._ [_Apart._] Then, with a kind of half curt'sy, I shall--[_She advances to the centre also, and their heads meet._]

_Ash._ What an wold fool thee be'st, Dame--Come along, and behave pratty, do'e. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_The same as act fourth, scene third._

_Enter_ HANDY, _jun. with caution, bearing a light, and a large key._

_Handy, jun._ Now to fulfil my promise with Sir Philip Blandford--by--entering that chamber, and removing--'Tis rather awful--I don't half like it, somehow, every thing is so cursedly still. What's that? I thought I heard something--no--why, 'sdeath, I am not afraid--no--I'm quite su--su--sure of that--only every thing is so cursedly hush, and--[_A flash of light, and a tremendous explosion takes place._] What the devil's that? [_Trembling._] I swear I hear some one--lamenting--who's there?

_Enter_ SIR ABEL HANDY.

Father? [_Trembling._]

_Sir Abel._ [_Trembling._] Bob!

_Handy, jun._ Have you seen any thing!

_Sir Abel._ Oh, my dear boy!

_Handy, jun._ Damn it, don't frighten one--

_Sir Abel._ Such an accident! Mercy on us!

_Handy, jun._ Speak!

_Sir Abel._ I was mixing the ingredients of my grand substitute for gunpowder, when somehow it blew up, and set the curtains on fire, and--

_Handy, jun._ Curtains! zounds, the room's in a blaze.

_Sir Abel._ Don't say so, Bob.

_Handy, jun._ What's to be done? Where's your famous preparation for extinguishing flames?

_Sir Abel._ It is not mixed.

_Handy, jun._ Where's your fire escape?

_Sir Abel._ It is not fixed.

_Handy, jun._ Where's your patent fire engine?

_Sir Abel._ 'Tis on the road.

_Handy, jun._ Well, you are never at a loss.

_Sir Abel._ Never.

_Handy, jun._ What's to be done?

_Sir Abel._ I don't know. I say, Bob, I have it--perhaps it will go out of itself!

_Handy, jun._ Go out! it increases every minute--Let us run for assistance--Let us alarm the family. [_Exit._

_Sir Abel._ Yes--dear me! dear me!

_Servant._ [_Without._] Here, John! Thomas! some villain has set fire to the Castle. If you catch the rascal, throw him into the flames. [SIR ABEL _runs off, and the alarm bell rings._

SCENE III.

_The Garden of the Castle--The effects of the fire shown on the foliage and scenery._

_Enter_ HENRY, _meeting_ EVERGREEN.

_Henry._ The Castle in flames! What occasioned it?

_Everg._ Alas! I know not!

_Henry._ Are the family in safety?

_Everg._ Sir Philip is.

_Henry._ And his daughter?

_Everg._ Poor lady! I just now beheld her looking with agony from that window!

_Henry._ Ah! Emma in danger!--Farewell!

_Everg._ [_Holding him._] Are you mad? the great staircase is in flames.

_Henry._ I care not! Should we meet no more, tell Sir Philip I died for his daughter!

_Everg._ Yet reflect.

_Henry._ Old man, do not cling to me thus--'Sdeath! men will encounter peril to ruin a woman, and shall I hesitate when it is to save one? [_Exit._

_Everg._ Brave, generous boy! Heaven preserve thee!

_Enter_ SIR PHILIP BLANDFORD.

_Sir Philip._ Emma, my child, where art thou?

_Everg._ I fear, sir, the Castle will be destroyed.

_Sir Philip._ My child! my child! where is she? speak!

_Everg._ Alas! she remains in the Castle!

_Sir Philip._ Ah; then will I die with her! [_Going._

_Everg._ Hold, dear master! if human power can preserve her, she is safe--The bravest, noblest of men has flown to her assistance.

_Sir Philip._ Heaven reward him with its choicest blessings!

_Everg._ 'Tis Henry.

_Sir Philip._ Henry! Heaven will reward him--I will reward him!

_Everg._ Then be happy; Look, sir!

_Sir Philip._ Ah! dare I trust my eyes!

_Everg._ He bears her safe in his arms.

_Sir Philip._ Bountiful Creator, accept my thanks!

_Enter_ HENRY, _bearing_ EMMA _in his arms._

_Henry._ There is your daughter.

_Sir Philip._ My child! my Emma, revive!

_Henry._ [_Apart._] Aye--now to unfold the mystery--The avenue to the eastern wing is still passable--the chamber not yet in flames--the present moment lost, and all is closed for ever. I will be satisfied, or perish. [_Exit._

_Miss B._ Am I restor'd to my dear father's arms?

_Sir Philip._ Yes, only blessing of my life! In future thy wishes shall be mine--thy happiness my joy.

_Enter_ HANDY, _jun. and_ SUSAN.

_Handy, jun._ My dear friend safe! and the lovely Emma in his arms! Then let the bonfire blaze.

_Sir Philip._ But, Emma, where is your Henry? I wish to be just to him--I wish to thank him.

_Miss B._ He has withdrawn, to avoid our gratitude.--

_Everg._ No--he again rushed into the Castle, exclaiming, "I will penetrate that chamber, or perish in the attempt."

_Sir Philip._ Then all is discovered.

_Handy, jun._ Hush, for Heaven's sake collect yourself!

_Enter_ HENRY, _in great agitation._

_Miss B._ Ah! [_Shrieks._] Thank Heaven, he's safe! What urged you, Henry, again to venture in the Castle?

_Henry._ Fate! the desperate attempt of a desperate man!

_Sir Philip._ Ah!

_Henry._ Yes; the mystery is developed. In vain the massy bars, cemented with their cankerous rust, opposed my entrance--in vain the heated suffocating damps enveloped me--in vain the hungry flames flashed their vengeance round me! What could oppose a man struggling to know his fate? I forced the doors, a firebrand was my guide, and among many evidences of blood and guilt, I found--these! [_Produces a knife and bloody cloth._]

_Sir Philip._ [_Starts with horror, then, with solemnity._] It is accomplished! Just Heaven, I bend to thy decree!--Blood must be paid by blood! Henry, that knife aimed by this fatal hand, murdered thy father!

_Henry._ Ah! [_Grasping the knife._]

_Miss B._ [_Placing herself between him and her father._] Henry! [_He drops his hand._] Oh, believe him not! 'Twas madness! I've heard him talk thus wildly in his dreams! We are all friends! None will repeat his words--I'm sure none will! My heart will break!--Oh, Henry! will you destroy my father?

_Henry._ Would I were in my grave!

_Enter_ GERALD.

_Sir Philip._ Ah, Gerald here! How vain concealment! Well, come you to give evidence of my shame?

_Gerald._ I come to announce one, who for many years has watched each action of your life.

_Sir Philip._ Who?

_Gerald._ Morrington.

_Sir Philip._ I shall then behold the man who has so long avoided me----

_Gerald._ But ever has been near you--he is here.

_Enter_ MORRINGTON, _wrapped up in his cloak._

_Sir Philip._ Well, behold your victim in his last stage of human wretchedness! Come you to insult me;

[MORRINGTON _clasps his hands together, and
hides his face._]

Ah! can even you pity me? Speak--still silent--still mysterious--Well, let me employ what remains of life, in thinking of hereafter--[_Addressing Heaven._] Oh, my brother! we soon shall meet again--And let me hope, that, stripped of those passions which make men devils, I may receive the heavenly balm of thy forgiveness, as I, from my inmost soul, do pardon thee.

[MORRINGTON _becomes convulsed with agony,
and falls into_ GERALD'S _arms._]

Ah! what means that agony? He faints! give him air!

[_They throw open his cloak and hat._]

[_Starts._] Angels of mercy! my brother! 'tis he! he lives! Henry, support your father!

_Henry._ [_Running to_ MORRINGTON.] Ah, my father! he revives!

_Sir Philip._ Hush!

[MORRINGTON _recovers--seeing his brother,
covers his face with shame, then falls
at his feet._]

_Mor._ Crawling in the dust, behold a repentant wretch!--

_Sir Philip._ [_Indignantly._] My brother Morrington!

_Mor._ Turn not away--in mercy hear me!

_Sir Philip._ Speak!

_Mor._ After the dreadful hour that parted us, agonized with remorse, I was about to punish home what your arm had left unaccomplished; when some angel whispered--"Punishment is life, not death--Live and atone!"

_Sir Philip._ Oh! go on!

_Mor._ I flew to you--I found you surrounded by sharpers--What was to be done? I became Morrington! littered with villains! practised the arts of devils! braved the assassin's steel! possessed myself of your large estates--lived hateful to myself, detested by mankind--to do what? to save an injured brother from destruction, and lay his fortune at his feet! [_Places parchments before_ SIR PHILIP.]

_Sir Philip._ Ah! is it possible!

_Mor._ Oh, is that atonement? No--By me you first beheld her mother! 'Twas I that gave her fortune! Is that atonement? No--But my Henry has saved that angel's life--Kneel with me, my boy--lift up thy innocent hands, with those of thy guilty father, and beg for mercy from that injured saint. [HENRY _kneels with him._]

_Sir Philip._ O God! How infinite are thy mercies! Henry, forgive me--Emma, plead for me--There--There. [_Joining their hands._]

_Henry._ But my father----

_Sir Philip._ [_Approaching._] Charles!

_Mor._ Philip!

_Sir Philip._ Brother, I forgive thee.

_Mor._ Then let me die--blest, most blest!

_Sir Philip._ No, no. [_Striking his breast._] Here--I want thee here--Raise him to my heart.

[_They raise_ MORRINGTON--_in the effort to embrace,
he falls into their arms exhausted._]

Again! [_They sink into each other's arms._]

_Handy, jun._ [_Comes forward._] If forgiveness be an attribute which ennobles our nature, may we not hope to find pardon for our errors--_here?_

[_The Curtain falls._]

THE END.

[Transcriber's Note: The following corrections have been made to the original text.

In Act I, Scene III, a missing period has been added to the sentence "I pressed forward, but they avoided me."

In Act II, Scene I, a missing quotation mark has been added to the sentence, "Were you at Lady Overall's?"

In Act II, Scene III, the attribution of the line "What! mayn't I lather un a bit?" has been corrected from Susan to Ashfield.

In Act IV, Scene I, a comma has been changed to a period in the sentence "That is the boy."]