Hebe. (clasping her hands in gratitude) And the neighbour?

Robert. (wiping away his tears) Excuse my tears. -He is an odd, rough kind of a body, an honest hypocrite who would pass himself for a bear when he is at heart a man-they call him Ambert. He discovered my misfortune, and zent me this claim upon your father (showing Harry the bond), who would not pay it : zo Į Imprisoned him in my turn-don't start, Harry: I did intend he should be confined two days-he has been confined two hours, and my revenge has gone off in a surfeit. Here, take this (giving him the bond), and do with it what you please.

Harry Courl. (pressing Robert's hand) Now I am sensible that I have wrong'd you

So has my father-Hebe, you must plead

For my forgiveness.

[kisses her, and exit Hebe. No, there is no occasion, is there?

more than ever.

Robert. No, he is a noble fellow; and I regard him -(seeing Moonshine's present in her hand) But who gave you that knick-nack; was it Harry?

Hebe. Oh, no.

Robert. No!

Hebe. No, it was given to me by a stranger.
Robert (alarmed) Ah!

Hebe. He told me it was worth twenty guineas: then I remembered you, and therefore it was I returned so soon, hoping it would be taken for your debt.

Robert. But this stranger, did he ask for nothing in return?

Hebe. Yes, he and his companion, poor men, put me to the blush their appetites were very keen; and I wished much to satisfy them.

Robert. (with dismay) What, and did you?

Hebe. No, for it was not in my power.

Robert, How?

Hebe. They at length departed, and with them went all I had to give.

Robert. Your innocence !

Hebe. No, Robert, my blessing.

Robert. Was that all?

Hebe. Yes, I had no provision in the house, andRobert. Provision! Oh, now I understand you.But, Hebe, we will return the gewgaw-let me see it. Worth twenty guineas! It isn't worth twenty cents it's only the one eye of an old pair of spectacles. However, keep his present until you see the gentleman again, when you must return it; and I will pay him for the loan of it (clinching his hand). [exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE I-An apartment in AMBERT's house.

Enter LOUISA COURLAND and FREDERIC WORLACE, followed by a servant.

Fred. Worl. (to the servant) You'll let your master know immediately. [exit servant Louisa Courl. Was there aught like compassion in his manner?

And even even then what if it were

The expansion only of a freezing soul?

Fred. Worl. Your gentle words would penetrate his

sense,

Like the breath's influence, that can melt its way
Into a mass of polar-frozen ice.-

But false report misleads you: he's a man

Not unendow'd with sensibility.

Louisa Courl. Yet if it tend to a revengeful purpose, Fred. Worl. For what?

Louisa Courl. I know not, yet I fear it will! Too powerful feeling vitiates the judgment: From inward heat the fever'd wretch, alas, Will misconceive the external temperature,

While he who is in every point susceptive
Misjudges often from a biass'd heart.
What if this man still persecute my father!
Oh, I have heard such stories of a prison;
Its glooms suffuse the mind with melancholy,
And madness oft ensues!-Save, Frederic, save
My father! He is languishing amid

Cold, poisonous damps!

Fred. Worl. There is no cause for such alarm, be

lieve me.

Louisa Courl. You cannot save him? No, your application

To this harsh man may fail

Fred. Worl. All I am worth

Louisa Courl. Then you'll redeem his liberty, you have A sum sufficient, have you not? No, no, You hesitate!

Fred. Worl. Thou charm of pious virtue,
All I am worth is yours; but will it give

You peace? (taking bank-notes from his pocket)
Louisa Courl. Ah, notes!

(receiving and examining them)—

-And have you no

thing more? Are these your all?

Fred. Worl. They are.

Louisa Courl. (with hopelessness) Are they, indeed? Fred. Worl. Louisa, can you doubt me?

Louisa Court. Oh, no, no, no

Enter AMBERT.

Frederic, there he is!

Fred. Worl. (to Ambert) Once more I trespass on

your solitude,

And, sir, to invoke you to an act of mercy.

You have, I trust, the power to discern.

Amb. I may have, sir

Proceed.

Fred. Worl. The object for whom I entreat, The female

Amb. Be dumb as death! tell not her tale again, Nor tear my being from its feeble hold

To glut the harpy's malice !

-Once, once,

Sir, I forgave you, but-Would you aught else?
Fred. Worl. I came to win you into sympathy
With an afflicted angel-

It seems or I am willing to believe-
Your softening brow relaxes at a name
That should, must be, the harbinger of peace.
Do you not sometimes meditate an act
Of which reflection is the sole reward?
Amb. Not sometimes, sir!

Once more I ask the motive of your visit.
Fred. Worl, You know a Mr. Courland.
Amb. Ha!

Fred. Worl. He is imprison'd,

And through your means.

-Will you not reverence

The feelings of his daughter? (presenting Louisa)
Louisa Courl. (kneeling) Oh, sir, pity,

Pity the anguish you've created here;
Though I have never given you offence,
Unless I do it pleading for a parent!
Speak, has he wrong'd you?

Amb. (in a revengeful manner) Wrong'd me!
Louisa Courl. I'll atone :

What is his fault?

Amb. His fault!

Louisa Courl. Or what his crime?
Oh tell me, tell me! do not turn aside.

What is his crime? My tears shall wash away
Your deep remembrance of it!

Amb. As soon shall

The morning's dew from the earth's bosom sweep The adamantine rock!

Fred. Worl. Louisa, rise,

Why thus degrade yourself?

Louisa Courl. Oh, no, no, no!

There is no degradation here.I cannot,
I will not rise until he grant my prayer.

Σ

Fred. Worl. He is inflexible-too iron-hearted.
Amb. Sir, sir, you judge too rashly!

Fred. Worl. You, as if

This melting object were not at your feet.
Yes, when a guiltless woman pleads for mercy
May he who has the power to deny it,

Ne'er cherish hope that pitying saints above
Will ever plead for him.

Amb. Indeed? Remember well this malediction, Remember I forgive you- -and repent! (exit, tearing himself from Louisa's hold)

Louisa Courl. He has then gone-(rising and in a tone of despair) and so has all my hope!

Fred. Worl. Be comforted, my soul.

Louisa Courl. You cannot save

My father.

Fred. Worl. No; but Heaven will for your sake: It has recall'd two strangers to my memory; Though in appearance poor, they are believ'd To be men of large fortunes.

Louisa Courl. Have you seen them?

Fred. Worl. Twice at a distance.

Louisa Courl. When, where the last time?
Fred. Worl. Just as we reach'd this house I caught a
glimpse

Of them approaching it-they now, perhaps,
Are here.I will apply to them.

Louisa Courl. Will you?

Fred. Worl. Yes, and all will be well. (takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away his tears, and drops a green pocket-book, which opens in falling.)

Louisa Courl. Why do you weep

?

Fred. Worl. With joy, my love: the hope that brightens there (in her countenance)

Must be the dawn of coming day.

Louisa Courl. Alas,

It was so faint it has already faded!·

[exit