The Stranger Part 6

_Bar._ We ride--we hunt--we play--read--write.--

_Mrs. H._ The n.o.ble employments of the chase, and the still more n.o.ble employment of play, I grant you.

_Bar._ Nay, but dare I ask what are your employments for a day?

_Mrs. H._ Oh, my lord! you cannot imagine how quickly time pa.s.ses when a certain uniformity guides the minutes of our life. How often do I ask, "Is Sat.u.r.day come again so soon?" On a bright cheerful morning, my books and breakfast are carried out upon the gra.s.s plot. Then is the sweet picture of reviving industry and eager innocence always new to me. The birds' notes so often heard, still waken new ideas: the herds are led into the fields: the peasant bends his eye upon his plough. Every thing lives and moves; and in every creature's mind it seems as it were morning. Towards evening I begin to roam abroad: from the park into the meadows. And sometimes, returning, I pause to look at the village boys and girls as they play. Then do I bless their innocence, and pray to Heaven, those laughing, thoughtless hours, could be their lot for ever.

_Bar._ This is excellent!--But these are summer amus.e.m.e.nts.--The winter!

the winter!

_Mrs. H._ Why for ever picture winter like old age, torpid, tedious, and uncheerful? Winter has its own delights: this is the time to instruct and mend the mind by reading and reflection. At this season, too, I often take my harp, and amuse myself by playing or singing the little favourite airs that remind me of the past, or solicit hope for the future.

_Bar._ Happy indeed are they who can thus create, and vary their own pleasures and employments.

_Enter PETER._

_Pet._ Well--well--Pray now--I was ordered--I can keep him back no longer--He will come in.

_Enter TOBIAS, forcing his way._

_Tob._ I must, good Heaven, I must!

_Mrs. H._ [_Confused._] I have no time at present--I--I--You see I am not alone.

_Tob._ Oh! this good gentleman will forgive me.

_Bar._ What do you want?

_Tob._ To return thanks. Even charity is a burden if one may not be grateful for it.

_Mrs. H._ To-morrow, good Tobias; to-morrow.

_Bar._ Nay, no false delicacy, madam. Allow him to vent the feelings of his heart; and permit me to witness a scene which convinces me, even more powerfully than your conversation, how n.o.bly you employ your time.

Speak, old man.

_Tob._ Oh, lady, that each word which drops from my lips, might call down a blessing on your head! I lay forsaken and dying in my hut: not even bread nor hope remained. Oh! then you came in the form of an angel, brought medicines to me; and your sweet consoling voice did more than those. I am recovered. To-day, for the first time, I have returned thanks in presence of the sun: and now I come to you, n.o.ble lady. Let me drop my tears upon your charitable hand. For your sake, Heaven has blessed my latter days. The Stranger too, who lives near me, has given me a purse of gold to buy my son's release. I am on my way to the city: I shall purchase my Robert's release. Then I shall have an honest daughter-in-law. And you, if ever after that you pa.s.s our happy cottage, oh! what must you feel when you say to yourself, "This is my work!"

_Mrs. H._ [_In a tone of entreaty._] Enough, Tobias; enough!

_Tob._ I beg pardon! I cannot utter what is breathing in my breast.

There is One, who knows it. May His blessing and your own heart reward you.

[_Exit, PETER following. MRS. HALLER casts her eyes upon the ground, and contends against the confusion of an exalted soul, when surprised in a good action.

The BARON stands opposite to her, and from time to time casts a glance at her, in which his heart is swimming._

_Mrs. H._ [_Endeavouring to bring about a conversation._] I suppose, my lord, we may expect the Count and Countess every moment now?

_Bar._ Not just yet, madam. He travels at his leisure. I am selfish, perhaps, in not being anxious for his speed: the delay has procured me a delight which I never shall forget.

_Mrs. H._ [_Smiling._] You satirise mankind, my lord.

_Bar._ How so?

_Mrs. H._ In supposing such scenes to be uncommon.

_Bar._ I confess I was little prepared for such an acquaintance as yourself: I am extremely surprised. When Solomon told me your name and situation, how could I suppose that--Pardon my curiosity: You have been, or are married?

_Mrs. H._ [_Suddenly sinking from her cheerful raillery into mournful gloom._] I have been married, my lord.

_Bar._ [_Whose enquiries evince his curiosity, yet are restrained within the bounds of the nicest respect._] A widow, then?

_Mrs. H._ I beseech you--There are strings in the human heart, which touched, will sometimes utter dreadful discord--I beseech you--

_Bar._ I understand you. I see you know how to conceal every thing except your perfections.

_Mrs. H._ My perfections, alas!--[_Rural music without._] But I hear the happy tenantry announce the Count's arrival. Your pardon, my lord; I must attend them. [_Exit._

_Bar._ Excellent creature!--What is she, and what can be her history? I must seek my sister instantly. How strong and how sudden is the interest I feel for her! But it is a feeling I ought to check. And yet, why so?

Whatever are the emotions she has inspired, I am sure they arise from the perfections of her mind: and never shall they be met with unworthiness in mine. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Lawn._

_SOLOMON and PETER are discovered arranging the TENANTRY.--Rural music._

_Enter COUNT and COUNTESS WINTERSEN, (the latter leading her Child,) the BARON, MRS. HALLER, CHARLOTTE, and SERVANTS following._

_Sol._ Welcome, ten thousand welcomes, your Excellencies. Some little preparation made for welcome too. But that will be seen anon.

_Count._ Well! here we are! Heaven bless our advance and retreat! Mrs.

Haller, I bring you an invalid, who in future will swear to no flag but yours.

_Mrs. H._ Mine flies for retreat and rural happiness.

_Count._ But not without retreating graces, and retiring cupids too.

_Countess._ [_Who has in the mean time kindly embraced MRS. HALLER, and by her been welcomed to Wintersen._] My dear Count, you forget that I am present.

_Count._ Why, in the name of chivalry, how can I do less than your gallant brother, the Baron? who has been so kind as nearly to kill my four greys, in order to be here five minutes before me.

_Bar._ Had I known all the charms of this place, you should have said so with justice.

_Countess._ Don't you think William much grown?

_Mrs. H._ The sweet boy!