Chapter 8

_A close walk in the Garden._

_Enter COUNTESS, and MRS. HALLER._

_Countess._ Well, Mrs. Haller, how do you like the man that just now left us?

_Mrs. H._ Who?

_Countess._ My brother.

_Mrs. H._ He deserves to be your brother.

_Countess._ [_Curtseying._] Your most obedient! That shall be written in my pocket-book.

_Mrs. H._ Without flattery then, madam, he appears to be most amiable.

_Countess._ Good!--And a handsome man?

_Mrs. H._ [_With indifference._] Oh, yes.

_Countess._ "Oh, yes!" It sounded almost like, "Oh, no!" But I must tell you, that he looks upon you to be a handsome woman [_MRS. HALLER smiles._] You make no reply to this?

_Mrs. H._ What shall I reply? Derision never fell from your lips; and I am little calculated to support it.

_Countess._ As little as you are calculated to be the cause of it. No; I was in earnest.--Now?

_Mrs. H._ You confuse me!--But why should I play the prude? I will own there was a time, when I thought myself handsome. 'Tis past. Alas! the enchanting beauties of a female countenance arise from peace of mind--The look, which captivates an honourable man, must be reflected from a noble soul.

_Countess._ Then Heaven grant my bosom may ever hold as pure a heart, as now those eyes bear witness lives in yours!

_Mrs. H._ [_With sudden wildness._] Oh! Heaven forbid!

_Countess._ [_Astonished._] How!

_Mrs. H._ [_Checking her tears._] Spare me! I am a wretch. The sufferings of three years can give me no claim to your friendship--No, not even to your compassion. Oh! spare me! [_Going._

_Countess._ Stay, Mrs. Haller. For the first time, I beg your confidence.--My brother loves you.

_Mrs. H._ [_Starting, and gazing full in the face of the COUNTESS._] For mirth, too much--for earnest, too mournful!

_Countess._ I revere that modest blush. Discover to me who you are. You risk nothing. Pour all your griefs into a sister's bosom. Am I not kind? and can I not be silent?

_Mrs. H._ Alas! But a frank reliance on a generous mind is the greatest sacrifice to be offered by true repentance. This sacrifice I will offer. [_Hesitating._] Did you never hear--Pardon me--Did you never hear--Oh! how shocking is it to unmask a deception, which alone has recommended me to your regard! But it must be so.--Madam--Fie, Adelaide! does pride become you? Did you never hear of the Countess Waldbourg?

_Countess._ I think I did hear, at the neighbouring court, of such a creature. She plunged an honourable husband into misery. She ran away with a villain.

_Mrs. H._ She did indeed. [_Falls at the feet of the COUNTESS._] Do not cast me from you.

_Countess._ For Heaven's sake! You are--

_Mrs. H._ I am that wretch.

_Countess._ [_Turning from her with horror._] Ha!--Begone! [_Going. Her heart draws her back._] Yet, she is unfortunate: she is unfriended! Her image is repentance--Her life the proof--She has wept her fault in her three years agony. Be still awhile, remorseless prejudice, and let the genuine feelings of my soul avow--they do not truly honour virtue, who can insult the erring heart that would return to her sanctuary. [_Looking with sorrow on her._] Rise, I beseech you, rise! My husband and my brother may surprise us. I promise to be silent.

[_Raising her._

_Mrs. H._ Yes, you will be silent--But, oh! conscience! conscience! thou never wilt be silent. [_Clasping her hands._] Do not cast me from you.

_Countess._ Never! Your lonely life, your silent anguish and contrition, may at length atone your crime. And never shall you want an asylum, where your penitence may lament your loss. Your crime was youth and inexperience; your heart never was, never could be concerned in it.

_Mrs. H._ Oh! spare me! My conscience never martyrs me so horribly, as when I catch my base thoughts in search of an excuse! No, nothing can palliate my guilt; and the only just consolation left me, is, to acquit the man I wronged, and own I erred without a cause of fair complaint.

_Countess._ And this is the mark of true repentance. Alas! my friend, when superior sense, recommended too by superior charms of person, assail a young, though wedded--

_Mrs. H._ Ah! not even that mean excuse is left me. In all that merits admiration, respect, and love, he was far, far beneath my husband. But to attempt to account for my strange infatuation--I cannot bear it. I thought my husband's manner grew colder to me. 'Tis true I knew, that his expenses, and his confidence in deceitful friends, had embarrassed his means, and clouded his spirits; yet I thought he denied me pleasures and amusements still within our reach. My vanity was mortified! My confidence not courted. The serpent tongue of my seducer promised every thing. But never could such arguments avail, till, assisted by forged letters, and the treachery of a servant, whom I most confided in, he fixed my belief that my lord was false, and that all the coldness I complained of was disgust to me, and love for another; all his home retrenchments but the means of satisfying a rival's luxury. Maddened with this conviction, (conviction it was, for artifice was most ingenious in its proof,) I left my children--father--husband--to follow--a villain.

_Countess._ But, with such a heart, my friend could not remain long in her delusion?

_Mrs. H._ Long enough to make sufficient penitence impossible. 'Tis true that in a few weeks the delirium was at an end. Oh, what were my sensations when the mist dispersed before my eyes? I called for my husband, but in vain!--I listened for the prattle of my children, but in vain!

_Countess._ [_Embracing her._] Here, here, on this bosom only shall your future tears be shed; and may I, dear sufferer, make you again familiar with hope!

_Mrs. H._ Oh! impossible!

_Countess._ Have you never heard of your children?

_Mrs. H._ Never.

_Countess._ We must endeavour to gain some account of them. We must--Hold! my husband and my brother! Oh, my poor brother! I had quite forgotten him. Quick, dear Mrs. Haller, wipe your eyes. Let us meet them.

_Mrs. H._ Madam, I'll follow. Allow me a moment to compose myself.--[_Exit COUNTESS._] I pause!--Oh! yes--to compose myself! [_Ironically._] She little thinks it is but to gain one solitary moment to vent my soul's remorse. Once the purpose of my unsettled mind was self-destruction; Heaven knows how I have sued for hope and resignation. I did trust my prayers were heard--Oh! spare me further trial! I feel, I feel, my heart and brain can bear no more. [_Exit._

ACT THE FOURTH.