and madness;
I took the advantage of his absence, corrupted the poor wretch he
left to guard me, and--swallowed poison.

_Mrs. Bev._ O! fatal deed!

_Char._ Dreadful and cruel!

_Bev._ Ay, most accursed--And now I go to my account. This rest from
pain brings death; yet 'tis heaven's kindness to me. I wished for
ease, a moment's ease, that cool repentance and contrition might
soften vengeance. Bend me, and let me kneel. (_They lift him from
his chair, and support him on his knees_) I'll pray for You too.
Thou Power that mad'st me, hear me! If for a life of frailty, and
this too hasty deed of death, thy justice dooms me, here I acquit
the sentence. But if, enthroned in mercy where thou sitt'st, thy
pity has beheld me, send me a gleam of hope; that in these last and
bitter moments, my soul may taste of comfort! And for these mourners
here, O! let their lives be peaceful, and their deaths happy! Now
raise me.
[_They lift him to the chair._

_Mrs. Bev._ Restore him, heaven! Stretch forth thy arm omnipotent,
and snatch him from the grave! O save him! save him!

_Bev._ Alas! that prayer is fruitless: already death has seized me.
Yet heaven is gracious. I asked for hope, as the bright presage of
forgiveness, and like a light, blazing through darkness, it came and
cheared me. 'Twas all I lived for, and now I die.

_Mrs. Bev._ Not yet!--Not yet!--Stay but a little, and I'll die too.

_Bev._ No; live, I charge you. We have a little one: though I have
left him, You will not leave him. To Lewson's kindness I bequeath
him--Is not this Charlotte? We have lived in love, though I have
wronged you--Can you forgive me, Charlotte?

_Char._ Forgive you!--O, my poor brother!

_Bev._ Lend me your hand, love. So--raise me--No--'twill not be--my
life is finished--O! for a few short moments to tell you how my
heart bleeds for you!--That even now, thus dying as I am, dubious
and fearful of hereafter, my bosom pang is for Your miseries!--Support
her heaven!--And now I go--O, mercy! mercy!
[_Dies._

_Lew._ Then all is over--How is it, madam? (_To Mrs. Beverley._) My
poor Charlotte too!

SCENE the last.

_Enter JARVIS._

_Jar._ How does my master, madam? Here's help at hand--Am I too late
then?
[_Seeing Beverley._

_Char._ Tears! tears! why fall you not? O wretched sister!--Speak to
her, Lewson--her grief is speechless.

_Lew._ Remove her from this sight. Go to her, Jarvis; lead and
support her. Sorrow like her