child, I have not told you all: there is worse
still: your brother knows; the boy as good as told me. Dorothy, this is
scandal at the door--O let that move you: for that, if not for my sake,
for that, if not for love, trust me, trust me again.

DOROTHY. I am so much the more your victim: that is all, and shall that
change my heart? The sin must have its wages. This, too, was done long
ago: when you stooped to lie to me. The shame is still mine, the fault
still yours.

AUSTIN. Child, child, you kill me: you will not understand. Can you not
see? the lad will force me to a duel.

DOROTHY. And you will kill him? Shame after shame, threat upon threat.
Marry me, or you are dishonoured; marry me, or your brother dies: and
this is man's honour! But my honour and my pride are different. I will
encounter all misfortune sooner than degrade myself by an unfaithful
marriage. How should I kneel before the altar, and vow to reverence as
my husband you, you who deceived me as my lover?

AUSTIN. Dorothy, you misjudge me cruelly; I have deserved it. You will
not take me for your husband; why should I wonder? You are right. I have
indeed filled your life with calamity: the wages, ay, the wages, of my
sin are heavy upon you. But I have one more thing to ask of your pity;
and O remember, child, who it is that asks it: a man guilty in your
sight, void of excuse, but old, and very proud, and most unused to
supplication. Dorothy Musgrave, will you forgive George Austin?

DOROTHY. O George!

AUSTIN. It is the old name: that is all I ask, and more than I deserve.
I shall remember, often remember, how and where it was bestowed upon me
for the last time. I thank you, Dorothy, from my heart; a heart, child,
that has been too long silent, but is not too old, I thank God! not yet
too old to learn a lesson and to accept a reproof. I will not keep you
longer: I will go--I am so bankrupt in credit that I dare not ask you to
believe in how much sorrow. But, Dorothy, my acts will speak for me with
more persuasion. If it be in my power, you shall suffer no more through
me: I will avoid your brother; I will leave this place, I will leave
England, to-morrow; you shall be no longer tortured with the
neighbourhood of your ungenerous lover. Dorothy, farewell!

SCENE VIII

_DOROTHY; to whom, ANTHONY, L._

DOROTHY (_on her knees and reaching with her hands_). George, George!
(_Enter ANTHONY._)

ANTHONY. Ha! what are you crying for?

DOROTHY.