[LYDIA approaches the door--her pace slackens--she pauses with her hand upon the lock--turns, and looks earnestly on WALLER.]

_Lydia_. I have a word To say to thee; if by thy mother's honour, Thou swear'st to me thou wilt not quit thy seat.

_Wal_. I swear as thou propound'st to me.

_Lydia_. [After a pause, bursting into tears.] Oh, why-- Why have you used me thus? See what you've done!

Essayed to light a guilty pa.s.sion up, And kindled in its stead a holy one!

For I do love thee! Know'st thou not the wish To find desert doth bring it oft to sight Where yet it is not? so, for substance, pa.s.ses What only is a phantasm of our minds!

I feared thy love was guilty--yet my wish To find it honest, stronger than my fear, My fear with fatal triumph overthrew!

Now hope and fear give up to certainty, And I must fly thee--yet must love thee still!

_Wal_. Lydia! by all--

_Lydia_. I pray you hear me out!

Was 't right? was 't generous? was 't pitiful?

One way or other I might be undone: To love with sin--or love without a hope!

_Wal_. Yet hear me, Lydia!--

_Lydia_. Stop! I'm undone!

A maid without a heart--robbed of the soil, Wherein life's hopes and wishes root and spring, And thou the foe that did me so much hate, And vowed me so much love!--but I forgive thee!

Yea, I do bless thee!

[Rushing up and sinking at his feet.]

Recollect thy oath!-- Or in thy heart lodged never germ of honour, But 'tis a desert all!

[She kisses his hand--presses it to her heart, and kisses it again.]

Farewell then to thee!

[Rises.]

Mayst thou be happy. [Going.]

_Wal_. Wouldst ensure the thing Thou wishest?

[She moves towards the door with a gesture that prohibits further converse.]

Stop! [She continues to move on.]

Oh, sternly resolute! [She still moves.]

I mean thee honour!

[She stops and turns towards him.]

Thou dost meditate-- I know it--flight. Give me some pause for thought, But to confirm a mind almost made up.

If in an hour thou hearest not from me, then Think me a friend far better lost than won!

Wilt thou do this?

_Lydia_. I will.

_Wal_. An hour decides.

[They go out severalty.]

SCENE II.--A Room in Sir William Fondlove's House.

[Enter WILDRAKE and TRUEWORTH.]

_Wild_. You are not angry?

_True_. No; I knew the service I sent you on was one of danger.

_Wild_. Thank you.

Most kind you are--And you believe she loves me: And your own hopes give up to favour mine.

Was ever known such kindness! Much I fear 'Twill cost you.

_True_. Never mind! I'll try and bear it.

_Wild_. That's right. No use in yielding to a thing.

Resolve does wonders! Shun the sight of her-- See other women!--Fifty to be found As fair as she.

_True_. I doubt it.

_Wild_. Doubt it not.

Doubt nothing that gives promise of a care.

Right handsome dames there are in Lancashire, Whence called their women, witches!--witching things!

I know a dozen families in which You'd meet a courtesy worthy of a bow.

I'll give you letters to them.

_True_. Will you?

_Wild_. Yes.

_True_. The worth of a disinterested friend!

_Wild_. O Master Trueworth, deeply I'm your debtor I own I die for love of neighbour Constance!

And thou to give her up for me! Kind friend!

What won't I do for thee?--Don't pine to death; I'll find thee fifty ways to cure thy pa.s.sion, And make thee heart-whole, if thou'rt so resolved.

Thou shalt be master of my sporting stud, And go a hunting. If that likes thee not, Take up thy quarters at my shooting-lodge; There is a cellar to 't--make free with it.

I'll thank thee if thou emptiest it. The song Gives out that wine feeds love--It drowns it, man!

If thou wilt neither hunt nor shoot, try games; Play at loggats, bowls, fives, dominoes, draughts, cribbage, Backgammon--special recipes for love!

And you believe, for all the hate she shows, That neighbour Constance loves me?

_True_. 'Tis my thought.