Chapter 11

_The Antichamber._

_Enter BARON._

_Bar._ Oh! deceitful hope! Thou phantom of future happiness! To thee have I stretched out my arms, and thou hast vanished into air! Wretched Steinfort! The mystery is solved. She is the wife of my friend! I cannot myself be happy; but I may, perhaps, be able to reunite two lovely souls, whom cruel fate has severed. Ha! they are here. I must propose it instantly.

_Enter COUNTESS and MRS. HALLER._

_Countess._ Into the garden, my dear friend! Into the air!

_Mrs. H._ I am quite well. Do not alarm yourselves on my account.

_Bar._ Madam, pardon my intrusion; but to lose a moment may be fatal. He means to quit the country to-morrow. We must devise means to reconcile you to--the Stranger.

_Mrs. H._ How, my lord! You seem acquainted with my history?

_Bar._ I am. Walbourg has been my friend ever since we were boys. We served together from the rank of cadet. We have been separated seven years. Chance brought us this day together, and his heart was open to me.

_Mrs. H._ Now do I feel what it is to be in the presence of an honest man, when I dare not meet his eye. [_Hides her face._

_Bar._ If sincere repentance, if years without reproach, do not give us a title to man's forgiveness, what must we expect hereafter? No, lovely penitent! your contrition is complete. Error for a moment wrested from slumbering virtue the dominion of your heart; but she awoke, and, with a look, banished her enemy for ever. I know my friend. He has the firmness of a man; but, with it, the gentlest feelings of your sex. I hasten to him. With the fire of pure disinterested friendship will I enter on this work; that, when I look back upon my past life, I may derive from this good action consolation in disappointment, and even resignation in despair. [_Going._

_Mrs. H._ Oh, stay! What would you do? No! never! My husband's honour is sacred to me. I love him unutterably: but never, never can I be his wife again; even if he were generous enough to pardon me.

_Bar._ Madam! Can you, Countess, be serious?

_Mrs H._ Not that title, I beseech you! I am not a child, who wishes to avoid deserved punishment. What were my penitence, if I hoped advantage from it beyond the consciousness of atonement for past offence?

_Countess._ But if your husband himself--?

_Mrs. H._ Oh! he will not! he cannot! And let him rest assured I never would replace my honour at the expense of his.

_Bar._ He still loves you.

_Mrs. H._ Loves me! Then he must not--No--he must purify his heart from a weakness which would degrade him!

_Bar._ Incomparable woman! I go to my friend--perhaps, for the last time! Have you not one word to send him?

_Mrs. H._ Yes, I have two requests to make. Often when, in excess of grief, I have despaired of every consolation, I have thought I should be easier if I might behold my husband once again, acknowledge my injustice to him, and take a gentle leave of him for ever. This, therefore, is my first request--a conversation for a few short minutes, if he does not quite abhor the sight of me. My second request is--Oh--not to see, but to hear some account of my poor children.

_Bar._ If humanity and friendship can avail, he will not for a moment delay your wishes.

_Countess._ Heaven be with you.

_Mrs. H._ And my prayers. [_Exit BARON._

_Countess._ Come, my friend, come into the air, till he returns with hope and consolation.

_Mrs. H._ Oh, my heart! How art thou afflicted! My husband! My little ones! Past joys and future fears--Oh, dearest madam, there are moments in which we live years! Moments, which steal the roses from the cheek of health, and plough deep furrows in the brow of youth.

_Countess._ Banish these sad reflections. Come, let us walk. The sun will set soon; let nature's beauties dissipate anxiety.

_Mrs. H._ Alas! Yes, the setting sun is a proper scene for me.

_Countess._ Never forget a morning will succeed. [_Exeunt._