_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 ma.s.sy 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 pa.s.sions 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 a.s.sa.s.sin'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 G.o.d! 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 enn.o.bles our nature, may we not hope to find pardon for our errors--_here?_