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CHAPTER CIX.

APPARITIONS.

FATHER PHILIP AND ALICE.

F. Phil. NONSENSE! you silly woman, what you say is not possible.

Alice. I never said it was possible; I only said it was true; and that if ever I heard music, I heard it last night. F. Phil. Perhaps the fool was singing to the servants. Alice. The fool, indeed! Oh, fye! fye! How dare you call my lady's ghost a fool?

F. Phil. Your lady's ghost! you silly old woman.

Alice. Yes, Father, yes, I repeat it. I heard the gui tar, lying upon the Oratory table, play the very air which the lady Evelina used to sing while rocking her little daughter's cradle; and ever at the close it went (singing) "Lullaby Lullaby! hush thee, my dear !”

F. Phil. Nonsense! nonsense! Why, do you think, Alice, that your lady's ghost would set up at night only to sing lullaby for your amusement? Besides, how should a spirit, which is nothing but air, play upon an instrument of material wood and catgut?

Alice. How can I tell? I can only say, that last night I heard the ghost of my murdered lady—————

F. Phil. Playing upon the spirit of a cracked guitar! Alice! Alice! these fears are ridiculous! The idea of ghosts is a vulgar prejudice; and they who are timid and absurd enough to encourage it, prove themselves the most contemptible

Alice. (screaming.) Oh! mercy on us!

F. Phil What?-Hey !-O dear!

Alice. Look! look! A figure in white! It comes from the haunted room!

F. Phil. (Dropping on his knees.) Blessed St. Patrick! who has got my beads? Where is my prayer book!

Alice. It comes! It comes -Now! Now! Lackaday, it is only lady Angela !

F. Phil. (Rising.) Lackaday, I am glad of it with all my heart. But what say you now, Father,

Alice Truly, so am I. to the fear of apparitions

F. Philip. In good faith, Alice, that my theory was better than my practice. However, the next time that you are afraid of a ghost, remember and use the receipt which I shall now give you; and instead of calling for a pries to lay the spirits of other people in the red sea, call for a bottle of red wine to raise your own. (Exit)

Alice. (Alone.) Wine, indeed !-I believe he thinks I like drinking as well as himself. No, no! Let the old toping Friar take his bottle of wine; I shall confine myself to plain cherry brandy.

Enter ANGELA.

Ang. I am weary of wandering from room to room; in vain do I change the scene; discontent is every where. There was a time when music could delight my ear, and nature charm my eye; now all is lost, all faded !

Alice. Lady Angela ! Did you hear those noises in the cedar room?

Ang. What noises? I heard none.

Alice. How?-When the clock struck one, heard you no music?

Ang Music!-None

Alice. And never have heard any while in the cedar

room.

Ang. Not that I-Stay! now I remember that while I sat alone in my chamber this morning

Alice. Well, Lady, well!

Ang. I thought I heard some one singing; it seemed as if the words ran thus, (singing) "Lullaby Lullaby! Hush thee, my dear!"

Alice (Screaming.)

The very words!-It was the ghost, Lady! it was the ghost!

Ang. The ghost, Alice! I protest I thought it had been you.

Alice, Me, Lady, mercy, when did you hear this singing? Ang. Net five minutes ago, while you were talking with father Philip.

Alice. I am glad of it with all my heart! Then it was not the ghost! it was I, Lady! it was I! And have you heard no other singing since you came to the castle?

Aug. None; but why that question ?
Alice Because, Lady.

frightened.

But, perhaps, you may be

Aug. No, no, no, Alice; from good spirits, I have nothing to fear, and Heaven and my innocence will protect me against bad.

Alice. My sentiments, I protest! but I must not stand here gossiping, I warrant all goes wrong in the kitchen: Your pardon, Lady, I must away!

CHAPTER CX.

SIR PHILIP BLANDFORD, MISS BLANDFORD AND HENRY.

Miss B. THE joy your tenantry display at seeing you agaix must be truly grateful to you.

Sir Phil. No, my child, for I feel I do not merit it. Alas! I can see no crphans clothed with my beneficence no anguish assuaged by my care.

Miss B. Then I am sure my dear father wishes to shew his kind intentions So I will begin by placing one under your protection. [Leads Heary forth. Sir Philip on seeing bim, starts, and becomes greatly agitated.]

Sir Phil An! do my eyes deceive me? No, it must bẹ him! Such was the face his father wore !

Henry. Spake you of my father?

Sir Phil. His presence brings back recollections which drive me to madness! How came he here? Who have I to blame for this?

Miss B. (Falling on his neck.) Your daughter.

Henry. Oh, Sir, tell me! on my knees I ask it ! do my parents live? Bless me with my father's name, and my days shall pass in active gratitude, my nights in prayers for you. (Sir Philip views him with contempt.) Do not mock my misery! Have you a heart?

Sir Phil. Yes; of marble. Cold and obdurate to the world-ponderous and painful to myself Quit my sight

forever.

Miss B. Go, Henry, and save me from my father's anger.

Henry. I obey, cruel as the command is, I obey it-I shall often look at this [touching the medal and think on the blissful moment when your hand placed it there. Sir Phil. Ah! tear it from his breast.

Henry. Sooner take my life! It is the first honor I

This medal Henry received from the hands of Miss Blandford which he won as the reward of his industry.

have ever earned, and it is no mean one; for it assigns me the first rank among the sons of industry! This is my claim to the sweet rewards of honest labour ! This will give me competence, nay more, enable me to despise your tyranny!

Sir Phil. Rash boy, mark! Avoid me and be secureRepeat this intrusion, and my vengeance shall pursue

thee.

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Henry. I defy its power!-You are in England, Sir, where the inan, who bears about him an upright heart, bears a charm too potent for tyranny to humble. Can your frown wither up my youthful viger? No! Can your breath stifle in my heart the adoration it feels for that pitying angel? Oh, no!

Sir Phil. Wretch ! you shall be taught the difference between us!

Henry. I feel it now! proudly feel it!-You hate the man that never wronged you-I could love the man who injures me-You meanly triumph o'er a worm-I make a giant tremble.

Sir Phil. Take him from my sight! Why am I not obeyed ?

Miss B. Henry, if you wish my hate should not accompany my father's, instantly retire.

Henry. When you command I instantly obey.

CHAPTER CXI.

SIR PHILIP BLANDFORD AND FARMER ASHFIELD.

Sir Phil. FARMER Ashfield, I believe you hold a farm of mine.

Ash. Eez, zur, I do, at your zarvice.

Sir Phil. I hope a profitable one.

Ash. Zometimes it be, zur.

But this year it be all t'other way as 'twur-but. I hope as our landlords have a tightish big lump of the good, they'll be zo kind hearted as so take a little bit of the bad.

Sir Phil. It is but reasonable-I conclude then you are in my debt.

Ash. Eez zur, I be-at your zarvice.

Sir Phil. How much?

Ash Zur, I do owe ye a hundred and fifty pounds-at your Zarvice

Sir Phil. Which you can't pay?

Ash. Not avarthing, zur-at your zarvice.

Sir Phil. Well, I am willing to give you every indulgence. Ash. Be you, zur; that be deadly kind. Dear heart! It will make my auid dame quite young again, and don't think helping a poor man will do your honor's health any harm-I don't, indeed, zur-I had a thought of speaking to your worship about it—but then, thinks I, the gentleman may be one of those that like to do a good turn, and not have a word zaid about it-zo, zur, if you had not entioned what I owed you, I am zure I never should-should not indeed, zur.

Sir Phil. Nay, I will wholly acquit you of the debt, on

condition

Ash Ees zur.

Sir Phil. On condition, I say, you instantly turn out that boy-that Henry.

Ash. Turn out Henry !-Ha, ha, ha! Excuse my tittering, zur; but you bees making your vun of I, zurę.

Sir Phil. I am not apt to trifle; send him instantly from you, or take the consequences.

Ash. Turn out Henry! I do wow I shou'dn't know how to set about it-I should not indeed, zur.

Sir Phil. You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what will follow-I'll leave you to reflect on it. (Exit.)

Ash. Well, zur, I'll argufy the topic, and then you may wait upon me, and I'll tell ye. (Makes the motion of turning out.) I shall be deadly awkward at it vor zártain-however, L'il put the case. Well I goes whizzling whoam➡

no

-drabit! I shou'dn't be able to whizzie a bit, I'm zure. Well! I goes whoam, and I zees Henry zitting by my wife mixing up someit to comfort the wold zoul, and take away the pain of her rheumatics-very well. Then Henry places a chair vor I by the virezide, and zays,-" Varmer, the horses be fed, the sheep be folded, and you have nothing to do but to zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy "-Very well becomes affected.) Then I zays" Henry, you be poor and friendless, zo you must run out my houze directly." Very well! Then my wife stares at I-reaches her hand towards the vire place, and throws the poker at my head. Very well!

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