[_He is going to seize her--she takes up the pistol and presents it._
ELEANOR.
No, it"s not _myself_ I"ll kill--"Tis you.
SIR GEORGE. [_Starting._ Nay, nay, nay, lay it down.--Lay that foolish thing down; I beg you will. (_Trembling._) It is charged--it may go off.
ELEANOR.
I mean it to go off.
SIR GEORGE.
But no jesting--I never liked jesting in my life.
ELEANOR.
Nor I--but am always serious.--Dare not, therefore, insult me again, but let me go to my wretched apartments.
[_Pa.s.ses by him, presenting the pistol._
SIR GEORGE.
Go to the----
[_She turns short at the door, and presents it again._
SIR GEORGE.
What would you do?--Here Bluntly! Bluntly! [_Exit_ ELEANOR.
_Enter_ BLUNTLY.
BLUNTLY.
Did you call or no, sir?
SIR GEORGE.
Yes, sir, I did call now. (_In a threatening accent._) Don"t you think you have behaved very well this morning?
BLUNTLY.
Yes, sir, I think I have.
SIR GEORGE.
I am not joking.
BLUNTLY.
Nor am I, sir.
SIR GEORGE.
And do not you think I should behave very well, if I was to discharge you my service?
BLUNTLY.
As well as can be expected, sir.
SIR GEORGE.
Why did you break in upon me just now? Did you think I was going to murder the girl?
BLUNTLY.
No, sir, I suspected neither love nor murder.
SIR GEORGE.
What then did you suspect?
BLUNTLY.
Why, sir, if I may make bold to speak--I was afraid the poor girl might be robbed: and of all she is worth in the world.
SIR GEORGE.
Blockhead! I suppose you mean her virtue? [_Smiling with contempt._
BLUNTLY.
Why, to say the truth, sir, virtue is a currency that grows scarce in the world now-a-days--and some men are so much in need of it, that they think nothing of stopping a harmless female pa.s.senger in her road through life, and plundering her of it without remorse, though its loss, embitters every hour she must afterwards pa.s.s in her journey.
_Enter_ HENRY.
HENRY.
Sir George, my father, liberated from prison by your bounty, is come gratefully to offer----
_Enter_ WILLFORD _and_ ELEANOR.
ELEANOR.
[_Holding her father by the hand, to prevent his going forward._ Oh, my father! whither are you going? Turn back--turn back.
HENRY. [_To his father._ This is your benefactor--the man whose benevolence has put an end to your sufferings.
[ELEANOR _bursts into tears and retires up the stage_.
WILLFORD.
How, sir, can I ever repay what I owe to you?--or how describe those emotions, which your goodness at this moment makes me feel?
SIR GEORGE. [_In confusion._ Very well--very well--"tis all very well. (_Aside_) I wish it was.--(_To him_) I am glad I have been of service to you.
WILLFORD.
You have been like mercy to us all. My daughter"s grat.i.tude overflows in tears.--But why, my child, do you keep apart from us? Can you be too timid to confess your obligation?
SIR GEORGE.
Let her alone--let her indulge her humour.
WILLFORD.
Speak, Eleanor.
SIR GEORGE.
No, I had rather she would be silent.
WILLFORD.
You offend me by this obstinacy.