SCENE V.
_Enter BATES._
Look to your men, Bates; there"s money stirring. We meet to-night upon this spot. Hasten and tell them so. Beverley calls upon me at my lodgings, and we return together. Hasten, I say; the rogues will scatter else.
_Bates._ Not till their leader bids them.
_Stu._ Come on then. Give them the word, and follow me; I must advise with you. This is a day of business.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE VI. _changes to _BEVERLEY"S_ lodgings_.
_Enter BEVERLEY, and CHARLOTTE._
_Char._ Your looks are changed too; there"s wildness in them. My wretched sister! how will it grieve her to see you thus!
_Bev._ No, no; a little rest will ease me. And for your Lewson"s kindness to her, it has my thanks: I have no more to give him.
_Char._ Yes; a sister and her fortune. I trifle with him; and he complains. My looks, he says, are cold upon him. He thinks too--
_Bev._ That I have _lost_ your fortune--He dares not think so.
_Char._ Nor does he--You are too quick at guessing. He cares not if you had. That care is mine. I lent it you to husband; and now I claim it.
_Bev._ You have suspicions then?
_Char._ Cure them, and give it me.
_Bev._ To stop a sister"s chiding.
_Char._ To vindicate her brother.
_Bev._ How if he needs it not?
_Char._ I would fain hope so.
_Bev._ Ay, would and cannot. Leave it to time then; "twill satisfy all doubts.
_Char._ Mine are already satisfied.
_Bev._ "Tis well. And when the subject is renewed, speak to me like a sister, and I will answer like a brother.
_Char._ To tell me I"m a beggar. Why, tell it now. I that can bear the ruin of those dearer to me, the ruin of a sister and her infant, can bear that too.
_Bev._ No more of this--You wring my heart.
_Char._ Would that the misery were all your own! But innocence must suffer. Unthinking rioter! whose home was heaven to him: an angel dwelt there, and a little cherub, that crowned his days with blessings--How has he lost this heaven, to league with devils!
_Bev._ Forbear, I say; reproaches come too late; they search, but cure not. And for the fortune you demand, we"ll talk to-morrow on"t; our tempers may be milder.
_Char._ Or if "tis gone, why, farewel all. I claimed it for a sister. She holds my heart in hers; and every pang She feels, tears it in pieces--But I"ll upbraid no more. What heaven permits, it may ordain; and sorrow then is sinful. Yet that the husband! father!
brother! should be its instrument of vengeance!--"Tis grievous to know that.
_Bev._ If you"re my sister, spare the remembrance--It wounds too deeply. To-morrow shall clear all; and when the worst is known, it may be better than your fears. Comfort my wife; and for the pains of absence, I"ll make atonement. The world may yet go well with us.
_Char._ See where she comes!--Look chearfully upon her. Affections, such as hers, are prying; and lend those eyes that read the soul.
SCENE VII.
_Enter Mrs. BEVERLEY, and LEWSON._
_Mrs. Bev._ My life!
_Bev._ My love! How fares it? I have been a truant husband.
_Mrs. Bev._ But we meet now, and that heals all. Doubts and alarms I have had; but in this dear embrace I bury and forget them. My friend here (_pointing to Lewson_) has been indeed a friend. Charlotte, "tis You must thank him: your brother"s thanks and mine are of too little value.
_Bev._ Yet what we have, we"ll pay. I thank, you, Sir, and am obliged. I would say more, but that your goodness to the wife, upbraids the husband"s follies. Had I been wise, She had not trespa.s.sed on your bounty.
_Lew._ Nor has she trespa.s.sed. The little I have done, acceptance over-pays.
_Char._ So friendship thinks--
_Mrs. Bev._ And doubles obligations, by striving to conceal them--We"ll talk another time on"t. You are too thoughtful, love.
_Bev._ No; I have reason for these thoughts.
_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.