The conjectures of this blundering blockhead terrify I hope Julia has not in a fit of rash perverseness— Yet I think her piety

me

Re-enter MR. Wingrove.

Well, William, any news of your sister?

Mr. Win. No, sir, no news-but of her dishonourDisgraceful girl!

Sir Will. O'Donnel alarms me exceedingly-he thinks that in a phrensy of disappointed passion she has————

Mr. Win. No, my dear sir, Julia is not so weary of life-The porter tells me he found all the doors leading to the road unbarr'd this morning. Wou'd I cou'd discover whether she had a companion in her flight!—If she be not recovered speedily, the disgrace will be indelible. Lord Dartford will be here soon. What shall we say to him? Oh, shameless Julia!

Sir Will. Forbear, my son-these violent transports distress me even more than your sister's flight.—Consider that it is thro' you the pure blood of our family must descend to posterity-that thro' you the name of Wingrove must be transmitted to ages as distant and unknown as those from wheuce it sprung. Reflect a little, my son; bring reason to your aid, and consider how trifling and insignificant are the misfortunes of your sister, compar'd to objects so important, and so sacred as these-Be calm, then, William.

Mr. Win. I will endeavour it, sir.

Sir Will. If you were to go to Miss Herbert's, her acquaintance is so extensive, you perhaps may obtain some information of Julia there-Go, go, my son. Mr. Win. I obey you, sir.

Enter O'DONnel.

O'Don. Lord Dartford, your honour.

[Exit.

Sir Will. He has not been informed of my daughter's absence?

O'Don. No, your honour; not a syllable has been spoken to him since he entered the house.

Sir Will. Where is he now ?

O'Don. In the saloon, sir, in arnest discourse with your honour's chaplain.

Sir Will. Blockhead !-I'll go to him then. [Exit. O'Don. Oh! 'tis a pretty blundering piece of business, fait.-Devil burn me, but if I didn't tink how it wou'd end. There's nothing so sure to make a young lady run away, as keeping her fast by the heels-O if I had a wife that I wanted to get rid of, fait, I wou'd keep her safe under lock and key.

[Exit.

Scene IV.-Miss Herbert's House.

Enter MISS HERBERT and MRS. RACHEL Cleveland. Miss Her. Miss Wingrove elop'd, aunt? Heaven grant it may be true! and that those to whom she has fled for refuge may be sensible of her merit-tho' I think I can guess the person.

Mrs. Ruch. I have heard it supposed that young Mr. Manly had a place in her affections-If he is the protector she has made choice of, I fear the lady's character, and the young man's life, are in equal danger.

Miss Her. The adventure wears a much less formidable aspect to me, I confess, provided she escapes her father's pursuit.-Oh, how I shall enjoy the vexation of Sir William and his son, at finding all the views of their persecuting ambition thus happily disappointed!

Mrs. Rach. Nay, Harriet, now I think you do not speak with your usual sincerity-Mr. Wingrove, I am persuaded, is not indifferent to you.

Miss Her. Dear aunt, you are partly right, and partly wrong. Mr. Wingrove has, I acknowledge, touch'd my heart a little; but the contagion has not yet made its way to my head-For tho' the little god may have

thrown away upon me an idle arrow or so, he has kept his bandage as an embellishment to his own person: I can see the failings of my swain as well as another. Mrs. Ruch. You're a mad girl.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. Mr. Wingrove, madam.

Miss Her. Desire him to walk up.

[Exit SERVANT.

Now I must tease him a little-do not opppose me, my dear aunt. I've a mind to lead him to believe, that his sister is under my protection-this will serve her, by stopping further pursuit for a while, and at the same time put him into a most entertaining rage with me.

Enter MR. WINGROVE.

But, dear madam, have you been kind enough to see that every avenue to the east wing of the house is secured? Has good care been taken that the postern-gate, at the lower end of the western parterre, is properly fastened? Are the man-traps all ready for snapping? Are the spikes new sharpen'd on the south wall ?— Have orders been given, that if any of the inquisitive family of the Wingroves-Oh, Mr. Wingrove !-you come upon one so suddenly-but I am overjoyed to see you, sir.

Mr. Win. I am bound in politeness, madam, to return the compliment; yet after what I heard at my entrance, there would, perhaps, have been no great offence to truth, if the joy had been suppressed on both sides.

Miss Her. You do well, sir, not to express more than you feel.

Mr. Win. If I did, madam, it appears I shou'd not want a precedent for my justification.

Miss Her. But why, Mr. Wingrove, if as you are constantly telling one I use you so very, very ill, why will you throw yourself perpetually in my way?—I don't recollect that I sent for you-Did I, aunt? Did

any body go to desire dear Mr. Wingrove to come to us?-I forget, I vow. And yet, perhaps, I might-for I know it does him a world of good, poor dear man!— He is fond of primitive times, and, like all your good people of those days, loves to throw himself in the way of a little wholesome persecution.-But now, sir, answer me this, you unjust-you ungrateful man, you!— Did I ever disappoint you whenever you came here for a little healthful mortification in a morning?-Was I ever the person to send you away without your errand? -No, sir, with all your malice, I defy you to lay that to my charge.

Mr. Win. Madam, I have many obligations, to be sure, to the gentleness of your nature; but I entreat you not to add one more to the many kindnesses I owe to it, that of driving me to distraction-Will you have the goodness to answer me, madam-Is not my sister here?

Miss Her. Bless me, sir! and suppose she is.-But it is all of a piece-you set out with informing me you were very sorry to see me, and now you would forbid me all intercourse with the only part of your family I have any desire to be acquainted with.

Mr. Win. Let me conjure you, my dear lovely tyrant, not to play with my anxiety-suspend awhile the triumphs of your sarcasm; you cannot misunderstand the agitations of my heart at this moment-you know the cause of them-If you have given my sister an asylum

Miss Her. Then, sir, with equal solemnity, I desire you to believe, that if I have given your sister the shelter you imagine, I shall not withdraw it to gratify the prejudices of any of her relations; besides, sir, were your sister assured she should be secure from the odious danger that threatens her from a man she detests, she would, I am convinced, be happy to throw herself at her father's feet, and on that condition

Mr. Win. It is a condition, however, that will not be granted her, madam. What! when our honour, when the dignity of our house are committed-shall all be sacrificed to the frivolous partiality of a disobedient girl?

Miss Her. Give me leave, sir, to tell you, that you seem to me to mistake this honour for which you declaim so warmly; honour holds no society with injustice.

Mr. Win. Injustice, madam!

Miss Her. Yes, sir; there can be no injustice equal to that of compelling a woman to so sacred a connection as a married union, against the known and settled preference of her heart. It is besides, sir, acting a very ungenerous part towards Lord Dartford himself.

Mr. Win. Not at all, madam; Lord Dartford knows of her aversion, and has spirit enough to disregard it.

Miss Her. Does he, sir? then indeed there can be no doubt, with all due deference to his spirit, but he merits it. But, in the meantime, Mr. Wingrove, permit me to embrace the very earliest opportunity of expressing my gratitude for this new philosophy you have been kind enough to teach us. You are the first lover, I believe, that ever told his mistress to her face, that a union of the affections was a superfluous ingredient in the composition of matrimony.-You made the discovery, siryou will leave it to me, to make the proper use of it.

Mr. Win. Nay, madam, if you are determined to make no other use of what I say, but to pervert it into ridicule or injury, I know nothing that's left me, but to use the only privilege which I think you will not deny me, that of making a speedy departure. I have long despaired of exciting any sympathy in you towards myself, yet the distresses of an afflicted brother, I had fondly believed, would have inclined you to forbearance at least, if they had failed to produce any more active effect upon your humanity.

[Erit