_An Apartment in the Castle._

SIR PHILIP BLANDFORD _discovered on a couch, reading_, SERVANTS
_attending._

_Sir Philip._ Is not my daughter yet returned?

_Serv._ No, Sir Philip.

_Sir Philip._ Dispatch a servant to her. [_Exit_ SERVANT.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Sir, the old gardener is below, and asks to see you.

_Sir Philip._ [_Rises and throws away the book._] Admit him instantly,
and leave me.-- [_Exit_ SERVANT.

_Enter_ EVERGREEN, _who bows, then looking at_ SIR PHILIP, _clasps his
hands together, and weeps._

Does this desolation affect the old man?--Come near me--Time has laid a
lenient hand on thee.

_Everg._ Oh, my dear master! can twenty years have wrought the change I
see?

_Sir Philip._ No; [_Striking his breast._] 'tis the canker here that
hath withered up my trunk;--but are we secure from observation?

_Everg._ Yes.

_Sir Philip._ Then tell me, does the boy live?

_Everg._ He does, and is as fine a youth--

_Sir Philip._ No comments.

_Everg._ We named him--

_Sir Philip._ Be dumb! let me not hear his name. Has care been taken he
may not blast me with his presence?

_Everg._ It has, and he cheerfully complied.

_Sir Philip._ Enough! never speak of him more. Have you removed every
dreadful vestige from the fatal chamber? [EVERGREEN _hesitates._]--O
speak!

_Everg._ My dear master! I confess my want of duty. Alas! I had not
courage to go there.

_Sir Philip._ Ah!

_Everg._ Nay, forgive me! wiser than I have felt such terrors.--The
apartments have been carefully locked up; the keys not a moment from my
possession:--here they are.

_Sir Philip._ Then the task remains with me. Dreadful thought! I can
well pardon thy fears, old man.--O! could I wipe from my memory that
hour, when--

_Everg._ Hush! your daughter.

_Sir Philip._ Leave me--we'll speak anon. [_Exit_ EVERGREEN.

_Enter_ MISS BLANDFORD.

_Miss B._ Dear father! I came the moment I heard you wished to see me.

_Sir Philip._ My good child, thou art the sole support that props my
feeble life. I fear my wish for thy company deprives thee of much
pleasure.

_Miss B._ Oh no! what pleasure can be equal to that of giving you
happiness? Am I not rewarded in seeing your eyes beam with pleasure on
me?

_Sir Philip._ 'Tis the pale reflection of the lustre I see sparkling
there.--But, tell me, did your lover gain the prize?

_Miss B._ Yes, papa.

_Sir Philip._ Few men of his rank--