Handy, jun. Who is that youth?
Sir Philip. You there behold his father—my brother—[Weeps.]—I've not beheld that face these twenty years.—Let me again peruse its lineaments. [In an agony of grief.] Oh, God! how I loved that man!—
Handy, jun. Be composed.
Sir Philip. I will endeavour. Now listen to my story.
Handy, jun. You rivet my attention.
Sir Philip. While we were boys, my father died intestate. So I, as elder born, became the sole possessor of his fortune; but the moment the law gave me power, I divided, in equal portions, his large possessions, one of which I with joy presented to my brother.
Handy, jun. It was noble.
Sir Philip. [With suppressed agony.] You shall now hear, sir, how I was rewarded. Chance placed in my view a young woman of superior personal charms; my heart was captivated—Fortune she possessed not—but mine was ample. She blessed me by consenting to our union, and my brother approved my choice.
Handy, jun. How enviable your situation!
Sir Philip. Oh! [Sighing deeply.] On the evening previous to my intended marriage, with a mind serene as the departing sun, whose morning beam was to light me to happiness, I sauntered to a favourite tree, where, lover-like, I had marked the name of my destined bride, and, with every nerve braced to the tone of ecstasy, I was wounding the bark with a deeper impression of the name—when, oh, God!——