Whose voice----
SIR WILLIAM.
Oh, my daughter!
SARA.
Oh, my father! Help me to rise, Waitwell, help me to rise that I may throw myself at his feet, (she endeavours to rise and falls back again into the arm-chair). Is it he, or is it an apparition sent from heaven like the angel who came to strengthen the Strong One? Bless me, whoever thou art, whether a messenger from the Highest in my father's form or my father himself!
SIR WILLIAM.
God bless thee, my daughter! Keep quiet (she tries again to throw herself at his feet). Another time, when you have regained your strength, I shall not be displeased to see you clasp my faltering knees.
SARA.
Now, my father, or never! Soon I shall be no more! I shall be only too happy if I still have a few moments to reveal my heart to you. But not moments--whole days--another life, would be necessary to tell all that a guilty, chastened and repentant daughter can say to an injured but generous and loving father. My offence, and your forgiveness----