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118 From frailty or from folly, dry them straight,

And listen to me. I have heard, the son

Of this strange woman is returning- home,

And will again pollute our neighbour- hood ;

fiomeniber my command, and shun his presence

As you would shun the adder. If re- port

Err not, his course of boyhood has been run

"Without one gleam of virtue to redeem

The darkness of his vices. ]\Iary. I '11 obey —

To the utmost of my power. — But, my dear father,

May not report err sometimes'? You were wont

To instruct me never to withhold the truth ;

And fearlessly to speak in their defence,

Whom I could vindicate from calumny;

That to protect the innocent, the ab- sent — Rav. How 's this ! the innocent — and calumny 1

And whence do you presume to throw discredit

On general report. — Wbat can you know? Mary. Not much perhaps, of late: wliile I remain'd

At his mother's — he was in his boyhood then ;

I knew him well; and there's one inci- dent

Much dwelt on to his prejudice, that I

Was witness to — if you would bid me tell it. "Ray. 0, by all means, come, your romance. Mary. 'T is truth.

It was a wintry day, the snow was deep,

And the chill rain had fallen and was frozen,

That all the surface was a glittering crust. —

We were all gather'd in the lady's hall,

That overlook'd the lawn; a poor stray fawn

Came limping toward us. It had lost, perhaps,

Its dam, and chas'd by cruel hunters, came

To seek a refuge with us. Every bound

The forlorn creature made, its little feet

Broke through the crust, and we could mark that one

Of its delicate limbs was broken. A rude

boy Follow'd it fast, as it would seem, to

kill it; I could not choose but wish its life were

sav'd, And at the word Charles ran and took

it up. And gave it to me, and I cherish'd it And bound its broken limb up; and it

liv'd. And seem'd to thank me for my care of it. Rav. But was this alH Was not the vil- lage lad assailed and beaten'? Mary. He was rude and churlish,

And would have forc'd the animal from

Charles. And tho' 't was on his mother's grounds,

Charles proffer'd him The price of the fawn. But nothing

would content him, x\nd he struck Charles; he was a larger

boy, But did not prove the stronger — so he

went And made the village all believe his story. That Charles had robb'd and beaten him,

for Charles Had none to speak for him. Rav. No more of this —

And never let me hear the name you've

utter'd Pass from your lips again. It is enough I know this youth for a lewd libertine; The woman, for a scoffer at things sacred, At me, and at my functions — and per- haps, Given to practices, that yet may need A dreadful expiation. Get you gone, And on your knees petition that you may

not Deserve my malediction. Mary. I obey.

{Exit Mary, into cottage, followed hjj Ravensworth.)

{Enter George Egertox, followed hy Sir Reginald, both in shooting dresses. )

George. By Heaven a lovely creature ! Sir R. Softly, George,

Is this the game you point at"? Have a

care. You 're not in London now, where our

gay monarch Sets such a fine example, in these matters. They '11 have no poaching here, that I can tell you,