Olla Podrida Part 34

_Agnes._ My dear father, I have never believed otherwise; but still I must rejoice at what has taken place, as I am convinced it is for her happiness, as well as for your own.

_Adm._ Come, dear, let us take a walk; I feel rather excited. No wonder, this being firm is one of the most unsteady feelings imaginable, for I have no sooner come to a resolution of making a stand, than I find my head running round consumedly. [_Exeunt._

_Scene V._

_A parlour in the homestead. Enter Dame Bargrove._

_Mrs Bar._ Well, I wonder whether Mr Bargrove intends to come home to-day. I never knew a man work so hard for his employer. He is an honest man, I will say that, and there are not many wives who are in their husband's secrets can say the same. Aye, and he's no poor man either. His own property to nurse, and twenty years' service with a liberal master have made him independent, and our boy and girl will be none the worse for it. Well, it has been fairly and honourably earned, and there are few who can count so much and say the same. I wish Peter were not so idle and thoughtless. It frets his father very much. Here he comes, and I'll try if I can't reason with him.

_Enter Peter Bargrove with great consequence._

_Mrs Bar._ Well, Peter, have you seen your father?

_Peter._ I have not yet communicated the important intelligence.

_Mrs Bar._ Why, what's the matter with the boy? important intelligence!

_Peter._ I had forgot. She is still unaware of my discovery. Hem!

(_walking up to his mother._) good woman! look me full in the face.

_Mrs Bar._ Good woman! Mercy on us, Peter! Is it thus you address your mother?

_Peter._ My mother! I tell you to look in my face.

_Mrs Bar._ Look in your face? Well, sir, I do look in your face; and a very foolish face you're making of it. Are you mad?

_Peter._ Mad! no, Mrs Bargrove, I'm not mad, but I've discovered all.

_Mrs Bar._ All!

_Peter._ Yes, all. Down on your knees and confess.

_Mrs Bar._ Confess! confess what? Down on my knees too? Why, you ungracious boy, what do you mean?

_Enter Mr Bargrove, unperceived, who stands aside._

_Peter._ What do I mean? Confess your enormous guilt--the wicked trick that you played me in my infancy.

_Mrs Bar._ Dear me, dear me, my child is out of his senses.

_Peter._ Madam, I am in my senses, but I am not your child. Woman, you know it.

_Mrs Bar._ (_weeping_). O dear, O dear!

_Peter._ Tell me, will you confess at once, thou infamous----

[_Old Bargrove comes forward, and knocks Peter down with his cudgel._

_Old Bar._ I can't stand it any longer. What do you mean, you rascal, by calling your mother infamous?

_Peter_ (_rubbing his head, and getting up slowly_). 'Tis well--'tis very well I had resolved before to turn you away; now you may expect the severest chastis.e.m.e.nt. Take warning this moment, you old----

_Old Bar._ (_lifting up his cudgel_). You old what?

_Peter._ I'll swear the peace against you. Take care what you are about.

This is a violent a.s.sault, you know; and you don't know him you are beating.

_Old Bar._ Don't I?

_Peter._ No, you don't--but I'll tell you. This woman changed me at nurse, and I can prove it. I--yes--I, humble as I stand here, with my head broken also--am no less than Peter Etheridge--the young Squire!

_Old Bar._ Look at the almanac, dame. Is the harvest moon at full? He's mad, indeed!

_Peter._ I am not. Mrs Bargrove, where is your accomplice, Nelly Armstrong? You see I know all. (_Mrs Bargrove weeps, but makes no answer._) I say again confess all, and then, perhaps, I may pardon you, and let your husband keep his place.

_Old Bar._ Keep my place, and so you are Peter Etheridge, are you?

_Peter._ I am, and she knows it well.

_Old Bar._ Well, but I don't. I only know you as my foolish son, Peter Bargrove, and so long as you are so supposed to be, I shall not permit you to insult your mother. So, Mr Peter, I'll just take the liberty of giving you a little wholesome chastis.e.m.e.nt, which I hope may prove beneficial.

[_Old Bargrove beats Peter round the room, while Mrs Bargrove tries to prevent him._

_Peter._ I'll tell my mother, Lady Etheridge! that I will. I'll go directly.

[_Peter runs off. Mr and Mrs Bargrove sit down. Mrs Bargrove sobbing._

_Old Bar._ (_panting_). The scoundrel!

_Enter Lucy, in her bonnet, from walking._

_Lucy._ Good Heavens, father, what was all that noise? Mother, why, what _is_ the matter?

_Old Bar._ Matter enough; here's your brother Peter gone out of his senses. But I have rubbed him well down with this cudgel.

_Mrs Bar._ (_crying_). He's mad, Lucy, quite mad! Called me an infamous old woman, and said that I changed him at nurse. He will have it, that he is Peter Etheridge.

_Lucy_ (_confounded_). Good heavens! how strange! (_Aside_) I hardly know what to think. That gipsy's knowledge--and now my brother--where could he have obtained similar information?--yet it cannot be, she is too good a woman.

_Old Bar._ What do you say, Lucy?

_Lucy._ Nothing, father.

_Old Bar._ Did you ever hear of such conduct?

_Lucy._ He must have been told so, or he never would have been so violent.

_Old Bar._ So violent! who could have told him such a falsehood? or who would have believed it for a moment, but a fool like him?