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Miss B. He has withdrawn, to avoid our gratitude.—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.]