. But I have rubbed him well down with this cudgel.

_Mrs Bar._ (_crying_). He's mad, Lucy, quite mad! Called me an infamous
old woman, and said that I changed him at nurse. He will have it, that
he is Peter Etheridge.

_Lucy_ (_confounded_). Good heavens! how strange! (_Aside_) I hardly
know what to think. That gipsy's knowledge--and now my brother--where
could he have obtained similar information?--yet it cannot be, she is
too good a woman.

_Old Bar._ What do you say, Lucy?

_Lucy._ Nothing, father.

_Old Bar._ Did you ever hear of such conduct?

_Lucy._ He must have been told so, or he never would have been so
violent.

_Old Bar._ So violent! who could have told him such a falsehood? or who
would have believed it for a moment, but a fool like him?

_Mrs Bar._ How could he have known anything about Nelly Armstrong?

_Lucy._ Nelly Armstrong! Did he mention her name?

_Mrs Bar._ Yes; he asked me where she was, and says, that she was my
accomplice.

[_Lucy remains in thought._

_Old Bar._ Lucy, why don't you comfort your mother? One would think you
were leagued with Peter.

_Lucy._ I, father!

_Old Bar._ Yes, you--you are not yourself. Pray have you heard anything
of this before? (_Lucy silent._) Answer me, girl, I say, have you before
heard anything of this?

_Lucy._ I have.

_Old Bar._ And pray from whom?

_Lucy._ From a strange quarter, and most strangely told. I am not well,
father. [_Lucy bursts into tears, and Exit._

_Old Bar._ (_after a pause, looking his wife earnestly in the face_).
Why, Dame Bargrove, how is this? Lucy is not a fool, and she is
evidently of the same opinion as Peter. (_Walks up and down the room,
and betrays much agitation._) Dame, dame, if, for foolish love of thine
own children, and I see that thou lovest the other two, as well, if not
better than, these--if, I say, thou hast done this great wrong, down on
thy knees, and confess it! Guilt can never prosper, and reparation must
be made.

_Mrs Bar._ (_throwing herself on her knees before her husband_). On my
knees, husband, I swear to you, before God, that these children, Peter
and Lucy, were born to me, and are the fruits of our marriage. May I
never prosper in this world, and lose all hope of mercy in the next, if
I speak not now the truth.

_Old Bar._ (_taking up his wife and kissing her_). I do believe thee,
dame, thou hast ever been honest; but there is mischief brewing, and we
must find out who are the au