_Lew._ A promise, such as this, given freely, not extorted, the world thinks binding; but I think otherwise.

_Char._ And would release me from it?

_Lew._ You are too impatient, madam.

_Char._ Cool, Sir--quite cool--Pray go on.

_Lew._ Time, and a near acquaintance with my faults, may have brought change: if it be so; or, for a moment, if you have wished this promise were unmade, here I acquit you of it. This is my question then; and with such plainness as I ask it, I shall entreat an answer. Have you repented of this promise?

_Char._ Stay, Sir. The man that can _suspect_ me, shall _find_ me changed. Why am I doubted?

_Lew._ My doubts are of myself. I have my faults, and You have observation. If from my temper, my words or actions, you have conceived a thought against me, or even a wish for separation, all that has pa.s.sed is nothing.

_Char._ You startle me--But tell me--I must be answered first. Is it from honour you speak this? or do you wish me changed?

_Lew._ Heaven knows I do not. Life and my Charlotte are so connected, that to lose one, were loss of both. Yet for a promise, though given in love, and meant for binding; if time, or accident, or reason should change opinion, with Me that promise has no force.

_Char._ Why, now I'll answer you. Your doubts are prophecies--I am really changed.

_Lew._ Indeed!

_Char._ I could torment You now, as You have Me; but 'tis not in my nature. That I am changed I own; for what at first was inclination, is now grown reason in me; and from that reason, had I the world--nay, were I poorer than the poorest, and You too wanting bread; with but a hovel to invite me to--I would be yours, and happy.

_Lew._ My kindest Charlotte! (_Seizing her hand_) Thanks are too poor for this, and words too weak! But if we love so, why should our union be delayed?

_Char._ For happier times. The present are too wretched.

_Lew._ I may have reasons, that press it now.

_Char._ What reasons?

_Lew._ The strongest reasons; unanswerable ones.

_Char._ Be quick and name them.

_Lew._ No, madam; I am bound in honour to make conditions first; I am bound by inclination too. This sweet profusion of kind words pains while it pleases. I dread the losing you.

_Char._ Astonishment! What mean you?

_Lew._ First promise, that to-morrow, or the next day, you will be mine for ever.

_Char._ I do--though misery should succeed.

_Lew._ Thus then I seize you! and with you every joy on this side heaven!

[_Embracing her._

_Char._ And thus I seal my promise. (_Returning his embrace._) Now, Sir, your secret?

_Lew._ Your fortune's lost.

_Char._ My fortune lost!--I'll study to be humble then. But was my promise claimed for this? How n.o.bly generous! Where learnt you this sad news?

_Lew._ From Bates, Stukely's prime agent. I have obliged him, and he's grateful. He told it me in friendship, to warn me from my Charlotte.

_Char._ 'Twas honest in him; and I'll esteem him for't.

_Lew._ He knows much more than he has told.

_Char._ For Me it is enough. And for your generous love, I thank you from my soul. If you'd oblige me more, give me a little time.

_Lew._ Why time? It robs us of our happiness.

_Char._ I have a task to learn first. The little pride this fortune gave me, must be subdued. Once we were equal; and might have met obliging and obliged. But now 'tis otherwise; and for a life of obligations, I have not learnt to bear it.

_Lew._ Mine is that life. You are too n.o.ble.

_Char._ Leave me to think on't.

_Lew._ To-morrow then you'll fix my happiness?

_Char._ All that I can, I will.

_Lew._ It must be so; we live but for each other. Keep what you know a secret; and when we meet to-morrow, more may be known. Farewell.

[_Exit._

_Char._ My poor, poor sister! how would this wound her! But I'll conceal it, and speak comfort to her. _Exit_.

SCENE V. _changes to a room in the gaming-house._

_Enter BEVERLEY, and STUKELY._

_Bev._ Whither would you lead me?

[_Angrily._

_Stu._ Where we may vent our curses.

_Bev._ Ay, on yourself, and those d.a.m.ned counsels that have destroyed me. A thousand fiends were in that bosom, and all let loose to tempt me--I had resisted else.

_Stu._ Go on, Sir. I have deserved this from you.

_Bev._ And curses everlasting. Time is too scanty for them.

_Stu._ What have I done?

_Bev._ What the arch-devil of old did--soothed with false hopes, for certain ruin.

_Stu._ Myself unhurt; nay, pleased at your destruction--So your words mean. Why, tell it to the world: I am too poor to find a friend in't.