The Stranger Part 3

_Fra._ I wish you joy. I am glad to see you are so much recovered.

_Tob._ Thank you. Heaven, and the a.s.sistance of a kind lady, have saved me for another year or two.

_Fra._ How old are you, pray?

_Tob._ Seventy-six. To be sure I can expect but little joy before I die.

Yet, there is another, and a better world.

_Fra._ To the unfortunate, then, death is scarce an evil?

_Tob._ Am I so unfortunate? Do I not enjoy this glorious morning? Am I not in health again! Believe me, sir, he, who, leaving the bed of sickness, for the first time breathes the fresh pure air, is, at that moment, the happiest of his Maker's creatures.

_Fra._ Yet 'tis a happiness that fails upon enjoyment.

_Tob._ True; but less so in old age. Some fifty years ago my father left me this cottage. I was a strong lad; and took an honest wife. Heaven blessed my farm with rich crops, and my marriage with five children.

This lasted nine or ten years. Two of my children died. I felt it sorely. The land was afflicted with a famine. My wife a.s.sisted me in supporting our family: but four years after, she left our dwelling for a better place. And of my five children only one son remained. This was blow upon blow. It was long before I regained my fort.i.tude. At length resignation and religion had their effect. I again attached myself to life. My son grew, and helped me in my work. Now the state has called him away to bear a musket. This is to me a loss indeed. I can work no more. I am old and weak; and true it is, but for Mrs. Haller, I must have perished.

_Fra._ Still then life has its charms for you?

_Tob._ Why not, while the world holds any thing that's dear to me? Have not I a son?

_Fra._ Who knows, that you will ever see him more? He may be dead.

_Tob._ Alas! he may. But as long as I am not sure of it, he lives to me: And if he falls, 'tis in his country's cause. Nay, should I lose him, still I should not wish to die. Here is the hut in which I was born.

Here is the tree that grew with me; and, I am almost ashamed to confess it--I have a dog, I love.

_Fra._ A dog!

_Tob._ Yes!--Smile if you please: but hear me. My benefactress once came to my hut herself, some time before you fixed here. The poor animal, unused to see the form of elegance and beauty enter the door of penury, growled at her.--"I wonder you keep that surly, ugly animal, Mr.

Tobias," said she; "you, who have hardly food enough for yourself."--"Ah, madam," I replied, "if I part with him, are you sure that any thing else will love me?"--She was pleased with my answer.

_Fra._ [_To STRANGER._] Excuse me, sir; but I wish you had listened.

_Stra._ I have listened.

_Fra._ Then, sir, I wish you would follow this poor old man's example.

_Stra._ [_Pauses._] Here; take this book, and lay it on my desk.

[_Francis goes into the Lodge with the book._] How much has this Mrs.

Haller given you?

_Tob._ Oh, sir, she has given me so much, that I can look towards winter without fear.

_Stra._ No more?

_Tob._ What could I do with more?--Ah! true; I might--

_Stra._ I know it.--You might buy your son's release.--There!

[_Presses a purse into his hand, and exit._

_Tob._ What is all this? [_Opens the purse, and finds it full of gold._]

Merciful Heaven!--

_Enter FRANCIS._

--Now look, sir: is confidence in Heaven unrewarded?

_Fra._ I wish you joy! My master gave you this!

_Tob._ Yes, your n.o.ble master. Heaven reward him!

_Fra._ Just like him. He sent me with his book, that no one might be witness to his bounty.

_Tob._ He would not even take my thanks. He was gone before I could speak.

_Fra._ Just his way.

_Tob._ Now, I'll go as quick as these old legs will bear me. What a delightful errand! I go to release my Robert! How the lad will rejoice!

There is a girl too, in the village, that will rejoice with him. O Providence, how good art thou! Years of distress never can efface the recollection of former happiness; but one joyful moment drives from the memory an age of misery. [_Exit._

_Fra._ [_Looks after him._] Why am I not wealthy? 'Sdeath! why am I not a prince! I never thought myself envious; but I feel I am. Yes, I must envy those who, with the will, have the power to do good. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_An Antichamber in Wintersen Castle._

_Enter SUSAN, meeting Footmen with table and chairs._

_Susan._ Why, George! Harry! where have you been loitering? Put down these things. Mrs. Haller has been calling for you this half hour.

_Geo._ Well, here I am then. What does she want with me?

_Susan._ That she will tell you herself. Here she comes.

_Enter MRS. HALLER, (with a letter, a MAID following._

_Mrs. H._ Very well; if those things are done, let the drawing room be made ready immediately.--[_Exit MAIDS._] And, George, run immediately into the park, and tell Mr. Solomon I wish to speak with him. [_Exit FOOTMAN._] I cannot understand this. I do not learn whether their coming to this place be but the whim of a moment, or a plan for a longer stay: if the latter, farewell, solitude! farewell, study!--farewell!--Yes, I must make room for gaiety, and mere frivolity. Yet could I willingly submit to all; but, should the Countess give me new proofs of her attachment, perhaps of her respect, Oh! how will my conscience upbraid me! Or--I shudder at the thought! if this seat be visited by company, and chance should conduct hither any of my former acquaintance--Alas!

alas! how wretched is the being who fears the sight of any one fellow-creature! But, oh! superior misery! to dread still more the presence of a former friend!--Who's there?

_Enter PETER._

_Pet._ n.o.body. It's only me.

_Mrs. H._ So soon returned?

_Pet._ Sharp lad, a'n't I? On the road I've had a bit of talk too, and--