when I dress her to-morrow, that either Mrs. Haller or I must quit the house.

Sol. [Seeing the Baron.] St!

Enter BARON, R.

Bar. Didn't I hear Mrs. Haller's name here?

Sol. [Confused.] Why-yes-we-we

Bar. Charlotte, tell my sister I wish to see her as soon as the tea-table is removed.

[Crosses, L Char. Either she or I go, that I'm determined. [Exit, R. Bar. May I ask what it was you were saying?

Sol. Why, please your Honourable Lordship, we were talking here and there-this and that—

Bar. I almost begin to suspect some secret.

Sol. Secret! Heaven forbid! Mercy on us! No! I should have had letters on the subject if there had been a

secret.

Bar. Well then, since it was no secret, I presume I may know your conversation.

Sol. You do us great honour, my lord. Why, then, at first, we were making a few common-place observations. Miss Charlotte remarked we had all our faults. I said, "Yes." Soon after, I remarked that the best persons in the world were not without their weaknesses. She said, "Yes." Bar. If you referred to Mrs. Haller's faults and weaknesses, I am desirous to hear more.

Sol. Sure enough, sir, Mrs. Haller is an excellent woman; but she's not an angel, for all that. I am an old faithful servant to his Excellency the Count, and therefore it is my duty to speak when any thing is done disadvantageous to his interest.

Bar. Well!

So.. For instance, now; his Excellency may think he has at least some score of dozens of the old six-andtwenty hock. Mercy on us! There are not ten dozen bottles left; and not a drop has gone down my throat, I'll

swear.

Bar. [Smiling ] Mrs. Haller has not drank it, I suppose? Sol. Not she herself, for she never drinks wine. But if any body be ill in the village, any poor woman lying-in, away goes a bottle of the six-and-twenty! Innumerable are the times that I've reproved her; but she always answers me snappishly, that she will be responsible for it. Bar. So will I, Mr. Solomon.

Sol. Oh! with all my heart, your Honourable Lordship. It makes no difference to me. I had the care of the cellar

E

twenty years, and can safely take my oath, that I never gave the poor a single drop in the whole course of my life.

Bar. How extraordinary is this woman! [Crosses, R.

Sol. Extraordinary! One can make nothing of her. To-day, the vicar's wife is not good enough for her. Tomorrow, you may see her sitting with all the women of the village. To be sure, she and I agree pretty well; for, between me and your Honourable Lordship, she has cast an eye upon my son Peter.

Bar. Has she?

Sol. Yes-Peter 's no fool, I assure you. The schoolmaster is teaching him to write. Would your Honourable Lordship please to see a specimen? I'll go for his copybook. He makes his pot-hooks capitally.

Bar. Another time, another time. Good bye for the present, Mr. Solomon. [Solomon bows, without attempting to go.] Good day, Mr. Solomon.

Sol. [Not understanding the hint.] Your Honourable Lordship's most obedient servant.

Bur. Mr. Solomon, I wish to be alone.

Sol. As your lordship commands. If the time should seem long in my absence, and your lordship wishes to hear the newest news from the seat of war, you need only send for old Solomon. I have letters from Leghorn, Cape Horn, and every known part of the habitable globe.

[Exit, L. Bar. Tedious old fool! Yet hold. Did he not speak in praise of Mrs. Haller? Pardoned be his rage for news and politics.

Enter COUNTESS, R.

Well, sister, have you spoken to her?

Countess. I have: and if you do not steer for another haven, you will be doomed to drive upon the ocean for

ever.

Bar. Is she married?

Countess. I don't know.

Bar. Is she of a good family?

Countess. I can't tell.

Bar. Does she dislike me?

Countess. Excuse my making a reply.

Bar. I thank you for your sisterly affection, and the explicitness of your communications. Luckily, I placed little reliance on either; and have found a friend, who will save your ladyship all further trouble.

Countess. A friend!

Bur. Yes. The Stranger, who saved your son's life this morning, proves to be my intimate friend.

Countess. What's his name?

Bar. I don't know.

Countess. Is he of good family?

Bar. I can't tell.

Countess. Will he come hither?

Bar. Excuse my making a reply.

Countess. Well, the retort is fair-but insufferable. Bar. You can't object to the Da Capo of your own composition.

Enter COUNT and MRS. HALLer, R.

Count, Zounds! do you think I am Xeuocrates: or like the poor sultan with marble legs? There you leave me tête-à-tête with Mrs. Haller, as if my heart were a mere flint. So you prevailed, brother. The Stranger will com then, it seems.

Bar. I expect him every minute.

how

Count. I'm glad to hear it. One companion more, ever. In the country, we never can have too many. Bar. This gentleman will not exactly be an addition to your circle, for he leaves this place to-morrow.

[Crosses behind Mrs. Haller, R. Count. But he won't, I think. Now, Lady Wintersen, summon all your charms. There is no art in conquering ús poor devils; but this strange man, who does not care a doit for you all together, is worth your efforts. Try your skill. I shan't be jealous.

Countess. I allow the conquest to be worth the trouble. But what Mrs. Hailer has not been able to effect in three months, ought not to be attempted by me.

Mrs. H. Oh, madam, he has given me no opportunity of trying the force of my charms, for I have never once happened to see him.

Count. Then he's a blockhead; and you an idler.

Sol. [Without, L.] This way, sir! This way!

Enter SOLOMON, L.

Sol. The Stranger begs leave to have the honour

Count. Welcome! Welcome!

[Exit Solomon.

[Runs to meet the Stranger, whom he conducts in by

the hand.

My dear sir-Lady Wintersen-Mrs. Haller

[Mrs. Haller, as soon as she sees the Stranger, shrieks

and swoons in the arms of the Buron. The Stranger casts a look at her, and, struck with astonishment and horror, rushes out of the room, L. The Baron and Countess bear Mrs. Haller off R.; Count following, in greut surprise.

END OF ACT IV.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The Antichamber.

Enter BARON, R.

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, R.

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 tomorrow. We must devise means to reconcile you to-the Stranger.

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

Bar. I am. Waldbourg 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. How do I feel what it is to be in the presence of an honest man, when I dare not meet his eye.

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, L.

Mrs. H. [Crosses, c.] Oh, stay! What would you do? No! never! My husband's honour is sacred to me. I love him unütterably: 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?

Often

Mrs. H. Yes, I have two requests to make. 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, La

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,