Chapter 7

_Ponder._ So! having executed my commission, let me _think_ a little (_sits down,_) for certain I and my master are two precious rogues (_pauses._) I wonder whether or not we shall be discovered, as assistants in this sham marriage (_pauses._) If we _are_, we shall be either transported or hanged, I wonder which:--My lord's bribe, however, was convenient; and in all cases of _conscience versus convenience_, 'tis the general rule of practice to nonsuit the plaintiff. Ha! who's here? The poor girl herself. (_Enter Fanny._) I pity her; but I've been bribed; so I must be honest.

_Fanny._ Oh, sir! I'm in sad distress--my father has discovered my intercourse with lord Austencourt, and says, he is sure my lord means to deny our marriage; but I have told him, as you and your master were present, I am sure you will both be ready to prove it, should my lord act so basely.

_Pon._ I must mind my hits here, or shall get myself into a confounded scrape--ready to do what, did you say, ma'am, to prove your marriage?

_Fan._ Yes, as you both were present.

_Pon._ Present! me! Lord bless me, what is it you mean? Marriage! prove! me! present!

_Fan._ Why do you hesitate? come, come, you do but jest with me--you cannot have forgotten it--

_Pon._ Hey? why no! but I can't say I remember it--

_Fan._ Sure, sure, you cannot have the barbarity to deny that you were a witness to the ceremony!

_Pon._ I may be mistaken--I've a remarkably short memory; but to the best of my recollection I certainly--

_Fan._ Ay, you recollect it--

_Pon._ I certainly _never was_ present--

_Fan._ Cruel! you were--indeed, indeed you were.

_Pon._ But at one wedding in my life.

_Fan._ And that was mine--

_Pon._ No, that was mine.

_Fan._ Merciful Heaven! I see my fate--it is disgrace and misery!

_Pon._ Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can't--however I'll speak to my master about it, and if _he_ recollects it I dare say _I_ shall.

_Fan._ I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is decided.

_Pon._ Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what they are thinking of--they're coming this way. _I_ think we had better retire.

_Fan._ O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him--

_Pon._ You can't escape that way, so you must come this. They wont think of coming here. (_puts her into another room_) Poor girl! I've a great mind to confess the whole affair. What shall I get by that? Nothing! nothing! Oh! that's contrary to law! [_Exit.

Enter_ lord Austencourt _and_ O'Dedimus.

_Lord A._ Are you certain no one can overhear us?

_O'Ded._ There's nobody can hear us except my ould housekeeper, and she's as deaf as St. Dunstan's clock-strikers.

_Lord A._ There is no time to be lost. You must immediately repair to Fanny--tell her my affection is unabated--tell her I shall ever love her, and make her such pecuniary offers, as shall convince her of my esteem and affection; but we must meet no more. (_Fanny utters a cry behind._)

_O'Ded._ What's that?

_Lord A._ We are betrayed!

_O'Ded._ Och! 'tis only my ould housekeeper.

_Lord A._ Your housekeeper! I thought you told me she was deaf.

_O'Ded._ Yes; but she isn't dumb. Devil a word can she _hear_ for sartin; but she's apt to _say_ a great many, and so we may proceed.

_Lord A._ You will easily accomplish this business with Fanny.

_O'Ded._ I'm afraid not. To tell you the truth, my lord, I don't like the job.

_Lord A._ Indeed! and why, sir?

_O'Ded._ Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I'm more apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself, my lord.

_Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find some one less delicate.

_O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself.

_Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing him--money, I suppose, is his object.

_O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty.

_Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by money he must be removed.

_O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence!

_Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him (_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet, he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it! a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I will love, forgive, will pray for you--

_Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness.

_O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law.

_Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me.

_Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery!

_Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you!

_Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in dreadful evidence against you! 'Tis Heaven itself! 'tis there your vows were heard! 'tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered! then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and retreat! reflect that we are married!

_Lord A._ I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again.

_Fanny._ Do not command me from you; I see your heart is softened by my tears; cherish the stranger Pity in your breast; 'tis noble, excellent! Such pity in itself is virtue! Oh, cherish it, my lord! nor let the selfish feelings of the world step in to smother it! Now! now, while it glows unstifled in your heart! now, ere it dies, to be revived no more, at once proclaim the triumph of your virtue, and receive into your arms a fond and an acknowledged wife!

_Lord A._ Ha! impossible! Urge me no more! I cannot, will not hear you--My heart has ever been your own, my _hand must_ be another's; still we may love each other; still we may sometimes meet.

_Fanny_ (_after a struggle._) I understand you! No, sir! Since it must be, we will meet no more! I know that there are laws; but to these laws I disdain to fly! Mine is an injury that cannot be redressed; for the only mortal witnesses to our union you have suborned: the laws, therefore, cannot do me justice, and I will never, inhuman as you are, I will never seek them for revenge. [_Exit._

_O'Ded_ (_aside._) I'm thinking, that if I was a lord, I should act in a clean _contrary_ way; by the powers now, that man has got what I call a tough constitution; his heart's made of stone like a brick wall--Oh! that a man should have the power of a man, and not know how to behave like a man!

_Lord A._ What's to be done? speak, advise me!

_O'Ded._ That's it: have you made up your mind already, that you ask me to advise you?

_Lord A._ I know not how to act.

_O'Ded._ When a man's in doubt whether he should act as an honest man or a rogue, there are two or three small reasons for choosing the right side.

_Lord A._ What is't you mean, sir?

_O'Ded._ I mean this thing--that as I suppose you're in doubt whether to persecute the poor souls, or to marry the sweet girl in right earnest.

_Lord A._ Marry her! I have no such thoughts--idiot!

_O'Ded._ Idiot! That's no proof of your lordship's wisdom to come and ask advice of one.--Idiot, by St. Patrick! an idiot's a fool, and that's a Christian name was never sprinkled upon Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law!

_Lord A._ I can feel for the unfortunate girl as well as you; but the idea of marrying her is too ridiculous.

_O'Ded._ The unfortunate girl never knew misfortune till she knew you, my lord; and I heartily wish your lordship may never look more ridiculous than you would do in performing an act of justice and mercy.

_Lord A._ You presume strangely, sir, on my confidence and condescension!

_O'Ded._ What! are you coming over me now with the pride of your condescension. _That_ for your condescension! When a great man, my lord, does me the honour to confide in me, he'll find me trusty and respectful; but when he condescends to make me an agent and a partner in his iniquity, by your leave from that moment there's an end of distinction between us.

_Lord A._ There's no enduring this! Scoundrel!

_O'Ded._ Scoundrel! ditto, my lord, ditto! If I'm a scoundrel, it was you that made me one, and by St. Patrick, there's a brace of us.

_Lord A._ (_aside_) The fellow has me in his power at present--you see me irritated, and you ought to bear with me--let us think of this no more. The father and daughter must both be provided for out of that money which sir Rowland still holds in trust for me.

_O'Ded._ And if you depend upon that money to silence the old man, you might as well think to stop a mouse-hole with toasted cheese.

_Lord A._ Pray explain, sir.

_O'Ded._ Devil a penny of it is there left. Sir Rowland ventured it in a speculation, and all is lost--Oh! blister my tongue, I've let out the secret, sure enough!

_Lord A._ Indeed! and what right had sir Rowland to risk my property? Be assured I will exact every guinea of it.

_O'Ded._ That's just what I told him. Sir, says I, his lordship is one of the flinty-hearted ones, and devil a thirteener will he forgive you--but, my lord, it will utterly ruin sir Rowland to replace it.

_Lord A._ Sir Rowland should have thought of that before he embarked my property in a hazardous enterprise. Inform him, sir, from me that I expect an instant account of it.

_O'Ded._ I shall do that thing, sir: but please to reflect a little--the money so laid out was honestly intended for your advantage.

_Lord A._ Another word sir, and I shall think it necessary to employ another attorney.

_O'Ded._ Sir, that's a quietus--I've done--only remember that if you proceed to extremities, I warrant you'll repent it.

_Lord A._ _You_ warrant--

_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and a warrant of attorney is reckoned decent good security.

_Lord A._ Since my uncle has so far forgotten his duty as a guardian, I have now an opportunity, which I shall not neglect, to bring him to a proper recollection--you have nothing to do but to obey my orders; and these are that the fourteen thousand pounds, of which he has defrauded my estate, shall be immediately repaid. Look to it, sir, and to the other affair you are entrusted with, and see that the law neglects no measures to recover what is due to me. [_Exit._

_O'Ded._ And by St. Patrick, if the law gives you what is due to you, that's what I'm too polite to mention. You've had your swing in iniquity long enough, and such swings are very apt to end in one that's much too exalted for my notions. [_Exit._