_The skirts of the Park, Lodge, &c. as before._
_Enter BARON._
_Bar._ On earth there is but one such pair. They shall not be parted.
Yet what I have undertaken is not so easy as I at first hoped. What can I answer when he asks me, whether I would persuade him to renounce his character, and become the derision of society? For he is right: a faithless wife is a dishonour! and to forgive her, is to share her shame. What though Adelaide may be an exception; a young deluded girl, who has so long and so sincerely repented, yet what cares an unfeeling world for this? The world! he has quitted it. "Tis evident he loves her still; and upon this a.s.surance builds my sanguine heart the hope of a happy termination to an honest enterprise.
_Enter FRANCIS with two Children, WILLIAM and AMELIA._
_Fra._ Come along, my pretty ones--come.
_Will._ Is it far to home?
_Fra._ No, we shall be there directly, now.
_Bar._ Hold! Whose children are these?
_Fra._ My master"s.
_Will._ Is that my father?
_Bar._ It darts like lightning through my brain. A word with you. I know you love your master. Strange things have happened here. Your master has found his wife again.
_Fra._ Indeed! Glad to hear it.
_Bar._ Mrs. Haller--
_Fra._ Is she his wife? Still more glad to hear it.
_Bar._ But he is determined to go from her.
_Fra._ Oh!
_Bar._ We must try to prevent it.
_Fra._ Surely.
_Bar._ The unexpected appearance of the children may perhaps a.s.sist us.
_Fra._ How so?
_Bar._ Hide yourself with them in that hut. Before a quarter of an hour is pa.s.sed you shall know more.
_Fra._ But--
_Bar._ No more questions, I entreat you. Time is precious.
_Fra._ Well, well: questions are not much in my way. Come, children.
_Will._ Why, I thought you told me I should see my father.
_Fra._ So you shall, my dear. Come, moppets.
[_Goes into the Hut with the Children._
_Bar._ Excellent! I promise myself much from this little artifice. If the mild look of the mother fails, the innocent smiles of these his own children will surely find the way to his heart. [_Taps at the Lodge door, the STRANGER comes out._] Charles, I wish you joy.
_Stra._ Of what?
_Bar._ You have found her again.
_Stra._ Show a bankrupt the treasure which he once possessed, and then congratulate him on the amount!
_Bar._ Why not, if it be in your power to retrieve the whole?
_Stra._ I understand you: you are a negociator from my wife. It won"t avail.
_Bar._ Learn to know your wife better. Yes, I am a messenger from her; but without power to treat. She, who loves you unutterably, who without you never can be happy, renounces your forgiveness; because, as she thinks, your honour is incompatible with such a weakness.
_Stra._ Pshaw! I am not to be caught.
_Bar._ Charles! consider well--
_Stra._ Steinfort, let me explain all this. I have lived here four months. Adelaide knew it.
_Bar._ Knew it! She never saw you till to-day.
_Stra._ That you may make fools believe. Hear further: she knows too, that I am not a common sort of man; that my heart is not to be attacked in the usual way. She, therefore, framed a deep concerted plan. She played a charitable part; but in such a way, that it always reached my ears. She played a pious, modest, reserved part, in order to excite my curiosity. And at last, to-day she plays the prude. She refuses my forgiveness, in hopes by this generous device, to extort it from my compa.s.sion.
_Bar._ Charles! I have listened to you with astonishment. This is a weakness only to be pardoned in a man who has so often been deceived by the world. Your wife has expressly and stedfastly declared, that she will not accept your forgiveness, even if you yourself were weak enough to offer it.
_Stra._ What then has brought you hither?
_Bar._ More than one reason. First, I am come in my own name, as your friend and comrade, to conjure you solemnly not to spurn this creature from you; for, by my soul, you will not find her equal.
_Stra._ Give yourself no further trouble.
_Bar._ Be candid, Charles. You love her still.
_Stra._ Alas! yes.
_Bar._ Her sincere repentance has long since obliterated her crime.
_Stra._ Sir! a wife, once induced to forfeit her honour, must be capable of a second crime.
_Bar._ Not so, Charles. Ask your heart what portion of the blame may be your own.
_Stra._ Mine!
_Bar._ Yours. Who told you to marry a thoughtless inexperienced girl?