Char. And hatred for the cause. Would you had that too!
Bev. I have. The cause was avarice.
Char. And who the tempter?
Bev. A ruined friend. Ruined by too much kindness,
Lew. Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his fame; mortally stabbed. Riches can't cure him.
Bev. Or if they could, those I have drained him of. Something of this he hinted in the morning—that Lewson had suspicions of him—Why these suspicions?
[Angrily.
Lew. At school we knew this Stukely. A cunning plodding boy he was, sordid and cruel. Slow at his talk, but quick at shifts and tricking. He schemed out mischief, that others might be punished; and would tell his tale with so much art, that for the lash he merited, rewards and praise were given him. Shew me a boy with such a mind, and time that ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice too. I'll prove him, and lay him open t'you. Till then be warned. I know him, and therefore shun him.
Bev. As I would those that wrong him. You are too busy, Sir.
Mrs. Bev. No, not too busy—Mistaken perhaps—That had been milder.