Lover's Vows Part 14

BARON. What do you mean?

AMELIA. Because I feel grat.i.tude to you; but that os very unlike the grat.i.tude I feel towards him.

BARON. Indeed!

AMELIA. Yes; and then he feels another grat.i.tude towards me. What's that?

BARON. Has he told you so?

AMELIA. Yes.

BARON. That was not right of him.

AMELIA. Oh! if you did but know how I surprized him!

BARON. Surprized him?

AMELIA. He came to me by your command, to examine my heart respecting Count Ca.s.sel. I told him that I would never marry the Count.

BARON. But him?

AMELIA. Yes, him.

BARON. Very fine indeed! And what was his answer?

AMELIA. He talked of my rank in life; of my aunts and cousins; of my grandfather, and great-grandfather; of his duty to you; and endeavoured to persuade me to think no more of him.

BARON. He acted honestly.

AMELIA. But not politely.

BARON. No matter.

AMELIA. Dear father! I shall never be able to love another--Never be happy with any one else. [Throwing herself on her knees.]

BARON. Rise, I command you.

[As she rises, enter ANHALT.]

ANHALT. My Lord, forgive me! I have ventured, on the privilege of my office, as a minister of holy charity, to bring the poor soldier, whom your justice has arrested, into the adjoining room; and I presume to entreat you will admit him to your presence, and hear his apology, or his supplication.

BARON. Anhalt, you have done wrong. I pity the unhappy boy; but you know I cannot, must not forgive him.

ANHALT. I beseech you then, my Lord, to tell him so yourself. From your lips he may receive his doom with resignation.

AMELIA. Oh father! See him and take pity on him; his sorrows have made him frantic.

BARON. Leave the room, Amelia. [on her attempting to speak, he raises his voice.] Instantly.--[Exit Amelia.

ANHALT. He asked for a private audience: perhaps he has some confession to make that may relieve his mind, and may be requisite for you to hear.

BARON. Well, bring him in, and do you wait in the adjoining room, till our conference is over. I must then, Sir, have a conference with you.

ANHALT. I shall obey your commands. [He goes to door, and re-enters with Frederick. Anhalt then retires at the same door.]

BARON [haughtily to Frederick]. I know, young man, you plead your mother's wants in excuse for an act of desperation: but powerful as this plea might be in palliation of a fault, it cannot extenuate a crime like yours.

FREDERICK. I have a plea for my conduct even more powerful than a mother's wants.

BARON. What's that?

FREDERICK. My father's cruelty.

BARON. You have a father then?

FREDERICK. I have, and a rich one--Nay, one that's reputed virtuous, and honourable. A great man, possessing estates and patronage in abundance; much esteemed at court, and beloved by his tenants; kind, benevolent, honest, generous--

BARON. And with all those great qualities, abandons you?

FREDERICK. He does, with all the qualities I mention.

BARON. Your father may do right; a dissipated, desperate youth, whom kindness cannot draw from vicious habits, severity may.

FREDERICK. You are mistaken--My father does not discard me for my vices--He does not know me--has never seen me--He abandoned me, even before I was born.

BARON. What do you say?

FREDERICK. The tears of my mother are all that I inherit from my father. Never has he protected or supported me--never protected her.

BARON. Why don't you apply to his relations?

FREDERICK. They disown me, too--I am, they say, related to no one--All the world disclaim me, except my mother--and there again, I have to thank my father.

BARON. How so?

FREDERICK. Because I am an illegitimate son.--My seduced mother has brought me up in patient misery. Industry enabled her to give me an education; but the days of my youth commenced with hardship, sorrow, and danger.--My companions lived happy around me, and had a pleasing prospect in their view, while bread and water only were my food, and no hopes joined to sweeten it. But my father felt not that!

BARON [to himself]. He touches my heart.

FREDERICK. After five years' absence from my mother, I returned this very day, and found her dying in the streets for want--Not even a hut to shelter her, or a pallet of straw--But my father, he feels not that!

He lives in a palace, sleeps on the softest down, enjoys all the luxuries of the great; and when he dies, a funeral sermon will praise his great benevolence, his Christian charities.

BARON [greatly agitated]. What os your father's name?

FREDERICK. --He took advantage of an innocent young woman, gained her affection by flattery and false promises; gave life to an unfortunate being, who was on the point of murdering his father.

BARON [shuddering]. Who is he?