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 trespassed on your bounty.
Lew. Nor has she trespassed. 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.
Mrs. Bev. No, not too busy—Mistaken perhaps—That had been milder.
Lew. No matter, madam. I can bear this, and praise the heart that prompts it. Pity such friendship should be so placed!
Bev. Again, Sir!—But I’ll bear too. You wrong him, Lewson, and will be sorry for’t.
Char. Ay, when ’tis proved he wrongs him. The world is full of hypocrites.
Bev. And Stukely one—So you’d infer, I think. I’ll hear no more of this—My heart akes for him—I have undone him.
Lew. The world says otherwise.
Bev. The world is false then. I have business with you, love. (To Mrs. Beverley.) We’ll leave them to their rancour.
[Going.
Char. No. We shall find room within for’t. Come this way, Sir.
[To Lewson.
Lew. Another time my friend will thank me; that time is hastening too.
[Exit with Charlotte.
Bev. They hurt me beyond bearing. Is Stukely false? Then honesty has left us!
’Twere sinning against heaven to think so.
Mrs. Bev. I never doubted him.
Bev. No; You are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live in that heart, and love that knows no change—Why did I ruin you?
Mrs. Bev. You have not ruined me. I have no wants when You are present, nor wishes in your absence, but to be blest with your return. Be but resigned to what has happened, and I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
Bev. My generous girl!—But memory will be busy; still crowding on my thoughts, to sour the present by the past. I have another pang too.
Mrs. Bev. Tell it, and let me cure it.
Bev. That friend, that generous friend, whose fame they have traduced—I have undone Him too. While he had means, he lent me largely; and now a prison must be his portion.
Mrs. Bev. No; I hope otherwise.
Bev. To hope must be to act. The charitable wish feeds not the hungry. Something must be done.
Mrs. Bev. What?
Bev. In bitterness of heart he told me, just now he told me, I had undone him. Could I hear that, and think of happiness? No; I have disclaimed it, while He is miserable.
Mrs. Bev. The world may mend with us, and then we may be grateful. There’s comfort in that hope.
Bev. Ay; ’tis the sick man’s cordial, his promised cure; while in preparing it, the patient dies.—What now?